


The Heartless

by Lady_Sairai



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 77,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Sairai/pseuds/Lady_Sairai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She did not know what Jack Sparrow had in mind when he allowed her to board the Pearl. She didn't understand his hesitation, nor did she know why he was even looking for a new crew when he already had one. She just wanted to get far away from Tortuga and find some freedom as a pirate. But she found so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When she told her story, she normally left out the part before she turned pirate. The part before the Pearl, the sea, and the Locker.

The daughter of a dead pirate and a Tortugan wench, she really wasn't anything out of the ordinary, save for the fact that she eventually withdrew from the wench business. For a wile she had instead worked at the same bar as her mother, serving drinks to sea dogs and watching them fall into the daze brought on by the rum. She also saw what they did to the women in their company, watching as the prettiest lass was taken by some old sailor over and over again. Not in front of everyone in the brothel, of course. She lived in Tortuga: she knew what went on in the rooms above her.

She had tried it once, being a wench. The dress she had worn was later burned, not that she would have been able to wear it again anyway. The man who had bought her for the night had ripped it to pieces in his haste, calloused hands and wiry hair rubbing unpleasantly against her skin. His face was gnarly and wrinkled, creased from the sea and covered in scars. After that, she never went about doing such a thing again. It turned her stomach whenever she remembered that particular memory. How the others did it, she would never know.

That was all before the Incident.

Nights passed, and she grew up significantly before it happened. Instead of seeking payment as a wench, she dodged about the brothel, bringing drinks to the drunken sailors. Many a man had made a grab for her after she refused to go above with them, though most of the time they were drunken and slow, and she was able to weave around their outstretched arms and groping hands. And yet, one younger man had reflexes as sharp as the small knife she had tucked into her bodice, which was kept just in case she needed it. He caught her as she was fleeing yet another unwanted attempt, tucked her under his arm, and wrestled her up the stairs. None tried to stop him, either not wanting to cause a stir or not caring whatsoever. Her shrieks were simply dismissed, her flails unnoticed.

He was gone after what felt like an eternity, and her body lay sprawled out on the bed, or at least what passed for one. That was the first time she had ever really sobbed. She had cried, yes, when her pet cat was shot by an angry sailor, when she had first realized what her mother really did for her job, when she fell and scraped her knee. She cried like any other lass her age, though never like that.

She resolved to leave Tortuga, find some pirate ship and learn to sail. The idea sounded spectacular to her, as she imagined herself at the helm of some glorious ship, commanding a strong, loyal crew in fierce, awe-inspiring battles against terrible foes. She might even get herself a cape of some sort. With the ideal fresh in her mind and what had just transpired pushed as far as possible from thought, she snuck out of the brothel to search for a ship she could crew. Or at least, the best looking one docked.

One with black sails caught her eye. One man stood on watch, keeping stowaways from clambering aboard. "Where be the rest of the crew?" She called up to him, attempting to sound pirate-like . Whatever the man was rolling around in his hand, he dropped, caught off-guard by the question directed at him. He then bent swiftly to pick it up, then returned into view, looking at her curiously.

"They be in there." He pointed to another brothel. Inwardly, she groaned, not wanting to enter one ever again.

"Thank ye," she said and trotted off in the direction he had pointed, the sign swinging above the door bearing the faded letters spelling out 'The Faithful Bride'. She snickered at the irony and pushed inside.

The place was crowded, and she didn't know whom she was looking for. So she did the sensible thing and asked someone, a grubby looking, drunk man. "Who be the captain of the ship with black sails?"

He looked around for a moment, as if expecting one of the surrounding men to have asked him. Not able to determine who it was who had asked him, he stated to the general area that the man at the table was who they were looking for, and pointed to the very man.

He indeed was sitting at a table, a short line of men in front of him, possibly looking to join his crew, which was just what she needed. Contrary to what she was expecting, he was rather young, as well as not alone. Well, had he been alone, she would have thought him foolish. What would have happened should he fall under attack? Nothing good, that's what.

The man next to him was rounder, shorter, and definitely older. Maybe he was the captain, not the one with dreadlocks and funny beard-thing. Either way, she sidled up to the line and stood there, waiting. It moved quickly, to which she was grateful. She didn't really want to talk to anyone, nor tell off someone looking for company. Stupid, sodding brothel.

Finally the man in front of her was first in line and, like all of them before he, he told his life's story, though abridged and not in any detail whatsoever. She didn't really care about it, and her attention was only drawn back to him when he flipped the table over and started yelling. She backed away, ducking into a shadowed corner as the rest of the men realized there was a fight amok and joined in hitting each other with bottles and throwing punches.

"So close," she muttered, rather disheartened. Then, she hauled herself out from her hiding place and walked directly into the one with the funny beard-thing.

"'Ello, there." He said and twisted around so she was in front of him and the man who had started the fight was in front of her. She growled and attempted to break away, though the man's hands were clasped firmly on her upper arms. She struggled for a moment, but judged the situation hopeless and settled for glaring at the one in front of her. His hair was ratty and limp, hanging in brown strands in front of his face. His face was unshaven and his uniform rumpled. He was most certainly one who spent all waking hours drinking or already drunk, and he was definitely angry, which often proved to be a dangerous and disastrous combination. He continued to glower at the man behind her until he muttered "accepted!" jovially, spreading his fingers away from her arms in a gesture of good nature. She took the opportunity to break free and turn to face him.

"Are you the captain of the ship with black sails harbor end out yonder," she asked.

"The Pearl? Yes." He replied looking curiously at her.

"Then I be wanting to join yer crew," she stated boldly, hands on hips.

He stared at her a moment, sizing her up. "What all can ye do?"

"Nut'in. But I'm eager to learn." She gave him her best smile, the one she saved for when she badgered a drink off the bartender, or when asking for a new dress. She even batted her eyelashes a few times, remembering being told that it sometimes won a man over.

"What be your name, lass, and what would a Tortuga wench want on a pirate ship?" He continued staring at her, making up his mind.

She smiled. He hadn't said no, but neither had he said yes. "My name be Cassandra Evens, and I want my freedom!" The man raised one eyebrow.

"A wench wanting freedom. Whatever for?" She tried to keep the disheartened look off her face.

"I want to be free." She said firmly, setting her jaw.

He threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "Fine. But be ready to make way at dawn tomorrow, otherwise ye be left behind."

"Yessir." She said happily and went to find some new clothes. A dress would weigh her down, as well as be a hassle to keep clean. Well, anything she wore would undoubtedly be destroyed at some point or another. Cassandra had always done her best to stay clean, and the idea of letting the salt and grime of the sea collect on her person... It both excited her at the idea of that freedom from order and made her cringe.

Grabbing a flask of rum from a table where some dog had left it, she raised it in the direction her new captain had disappeared. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho." She then downed the entire thing, excited to embark on a new adventure.

It was a rather good thing that she was still in shock at this point.


	2. Chapter 2

The captain looked disappointed in her appearance that morning. Cassandra, however, was happily waiting to make way by leaning on the rails and watching people pass by. She wore a different ensemble than the last night, this time appearing in a loose brown shirt she had nicked off of a street vendor, dark brown trousers, almost black, nicked off the same man. She still kept her black boots and black scarf. The way she wore it was different, as she had tied it around her waist to mimic the way her captain wore his. The last touch was a black coat, one that reached her knees. She liked it because of how it flew behind her while she walked. She still needed a weapon, though.

She said as much to the captain.

"So go get one, lass," he shouted up to her. She nimbly ran from the ship, looking for some unsuspecting bloke to rob. Of course, as she didn't know how to fight save for stabbing a man with her knife, the sword wasn't simply for fighting. She wanted to cut her long hair so it wouldn't be in the way as she was working about the deck or fighting.

She would have to learn to fight. She might wait until they were out to sea a bit to tell the captain that. What use was a small knife on a small girl if surely sailor men were intent on disemboweling her with heavy swords? She could maybe poke them. If that.

She darted through the streets, looking about for some man that wasn't already robbed of everything. At first she didn't see anyone, though the streets were plenty crowded, everyone seemed to be on guard. Then she saw him.

He was the man from the last night. The shock hadn't worn off yet, so she was still operating with a mind in denial, allowing her to function as usual. That didn't stop her from hating him to pieces, though. Drawing her knife, she slunk up to him, hiding the sharp object behind her back.

He looked up at her drunkenly. "Up for another run, eh?" He leered nastily at her, and she shrank back, pulling the knife from behind her back. She thought it would be so much easier, but she was terrified now, shaking in her boots. "Ah! After revenge, are ye? Think you can beat a man twice your size?" She ducked down, wishing a plan would form in her mind, but there was nothing except the panic. He was going to take her again, she was certain.

No.

She wasn't going to let that happen, was she? Still trembling, she pretended to walk away, merging into the crowd only to emerge behind him, in the shadows. She had seen men do this to one another before, she just wasn't sure she could do it herself.

Eventually, she would have to. She was a pirate lass now, she would have to do this kind of thing every day. Reaching in front of him, all the while gripping her weapon steadily in her hand, she dug in and dragged it across his neck. Her own strength surprised her as scarlet blood bubbled out of the cut. Roaring, he spun around, grabbing her around her own neck and squeezing. "You stupid bitch!" He screamed in her face, spittle flying from his mouth and landing on her person.

Struggling, she grabbed the knife tighter so her knuckles turned white and stabbed. His eyes widened and he fell back, releasing her. While he was still in shock, she grabbed his sword and scabbard and ran off, wiping the blood on her trousers as she went. He would most certainly die, and it would take a bit of time.

'Serves him right.' She thought. Who knew how many women he had taken advantage of? The world was much better off without him in it.

When she skidded to a halt at the dock where the Pearl was moored, she was surprised to find the great ship gone. Well, not really gone. She saw it off in the distance, not to far off. She could maybe catch up if she swam, as the wind was against them. She shrugged. It was worth a shot, at least. A small row boat was docked nearby, and she quickly jumped into it and began rowing off in the direction the ship was traveling in. She wouldn't have to ruin her clothes yet, as it turned out.

She rowed until her arms ached, which wasn't long, and took a short break, wishing she had some water or rum to drink. Then she was back to rowing again. She wasn't gaining any distance, but she wasn't loosing any either. At least, as far as she could tell. That thought invigorated her, and she continued rowing, taking longer strokes and croaking as much speed as she could out of the sea. She didn't even notice that the ship had stopped until it's great shadow was looming over her. The captain leaned over the rail, staring at her.

"You're quite determined for such a small lass," he stated, eyebrows raised.

"You left me." She growled. The shock was wearing off, her emotions spiking to a peak they hadn't ever reached before. She had been raped, she had doomed a man to a long, painful death, and she was running away on a pirate ship that didn't want her. She wanted to scream, to sob, to just curl up and die.

"If you knew why, you would have left you, too," he said, then disappeared. This time she did shriek, but not knowing his name it was just a wordless scream of pain and anger.

"Calm down, lass! I was gettin' ye a rope!" The captain was back, now carrying a sturdy looking rope. "Haul yerself up," he said as he tied the rope down, then threw the other end down to her. A wave crashed over her small boat, and she quickly scrabbled to pull herself up. Hand over hand, she climbed, blacking her feet as best she could on the side of the ship, though the seawater was making it slippery. It was also making it hard to see, stinging her eyes and clouding her vision. Or maybe that was the tears that were probably flowing down her face.

Finally, she reached the rail and threw herself over, landing on her back on the deck. Above her, the captain offered her his hand, and she ignored it, hauling herself to her feet. "What's wrong, lass," he asked quietly. She snook her head, staring at her feet.

"Why were you so anxious to loose me?" The words were choked, but they managed to pass by the lump in her throat. Her hair was tangled behind her head, and a few strands fell into her face. Howling, she drew her sword and worked at cutting it off, grabbing hunks and chopping so that it fell into the deck in piled and hung from her scalp in patchy layers. When she was done, she stood there, panting. The captain had reeled back away from her, a bit surprised.

"I was hiring to repay a debt. To Davy Jones. Ye might've 'erd o' him," he said quietly. "One hundred souls. Three days. No woman deserves that fate, but... I had no choice." His voice had started off quiet, and now was reduced to a mumble.

"Why not take the man who raped me," she asked in much the same tone. His eyes widened in surprise.

"But you're a..."

"I'm not! I tried it once, but never again!"

"Oh."

"Oh," she mimicked in a strange voice, wrinkling her nose. "Oh, I didn't realize that some people didn't want to shag anything with legs. I didn't realize that some people have decency, or at least try to!" She was now shouting in his face, eyes wild.

Again, he reeled back. "Why don't you go man the crow's nest for now," he said in a compromising tone.

"I think I will, thank you!" She stormed off, past the crew who were staring at her in shock, up the ropes and past the sails and into the wooden basket set high up on the ship. She glowered at the ocean around her, mouth locked in a snarl. The snarl slowly faded as her thoughts increased in speed, and her mouth opened and released a sob. Her arms took her weight as she leaned on the rail, knees having given out. Then her elbows fell, until she was curled up on the planks, sobbing. The ship rocked back and forth, and it only made her sob all the more.


	3. Chapter Three

Eventually the sky grew dark and her tears we used up. She was still left with the dry sobs of pain, but her face had long since dried. Her face was blotchy, not made any better with the streaks of red caused my her fingers rubbing desperately at her tears-soaked eyes. That was where he found her, curled up on herself, eyes tightly shut. He reached out and poked her shoulder gently, and she gave a muffled shriek and edged away from him as much as possible. There was hardly enough room for two people in the crow's nest, so she didn't go very far.

"Shhh, shhh. I'm no' gonna 'urt ye," the captain murmured, sitting down next to her quivering body.

She, not having had anyone to help her, jumped at the opportunity to just be held as she cried. And, though he was a pirate, this captain seemed like an honest enough man. Slowly, and still crying, she lay her head on his knee, though kept her eyes closed. She felt his hand smooth her hair down, as if she were a kitten. She found the action rather comforting.

"It's all okay now, Jack's here."

'So now I get to know his name,' she thought, 'while I'm a sobbing mess. Helpful.'

She desperately tried to pull herself together, clinging to what shreds of dignity she had left. Shakily, she braced one arm under herself, hauling herself to a sitting position. She then leaned against the railing, which was more like collapsing as the muscles in her back simply gave in. They simply didn't have the energy to support her.

"Do ye need to talk about it?" He looked at her, but she couldn't look back.

"I need ta get o'er it. That's what I need. But somehow I know I can't jus' do that."

"By no means will ye jus' wake up tomorrow and skip abou' as ye did before. Nay, ye'll have to use it to make ye stronger. Ye survived, righ'?" Gently, oh so gently, he placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. She lay her heavy head on his shoulder, staring at the red sky lighting up the sea. Even while she was on land, she had loved the sea. The salty scent of it, the food it brought forth, the crystal-clear beauty of it... She used to swim all the time before... Before she had no choice but to take the job. She may as well admit it to herself, if she were to use her past life to strengthen her.

"After all, how many a pirate can say they been... Raped?" She joked shakily. Her voice was so quiet, it was a wonder he heard her at all. But he chuckled slightly, squeezing her shoulder in a sort of side-hug. She would by all means take his advice. She would become strong, stronger than any woman alive. "Teach me ta fight," she said.

"We have a new heading, so there will be no need for ye to even see Jones," he said. "While we sail, I'll teach ye."

Every person connected with the sea knew Jones' tale, and this included Cassandra. She had heard it many a time, the heartbreaking story of how he loved the goddess Calypso, and how she never showed tail on the day she promised. She had heard how he tore his own heart out and locked it away, then how he abandoned his duty appointed by his old love and became all tentacle-y.

She had cried the first time she heard the tale. She was so fiercely loyal (a quality her mother said was to the point of weakness) that she almost hated Calypso for her betrayal. Almost.

If that was how one dealt with such painful memories and feelings out here, she might ask to be dropped at the nearest island. Unlike Jones, she was not immortal. If she cut out her heart, she would die, and she would still have to deal with her memories. Instead, she would encase her heart in protection so impenetrable one couldn't pierce it with a sword. She would scavenge up what was left of her and reform herself.

"There now, get some rest. Ye will be needing it tomorrow." Jack said. He stood up, and this time when he offered her his hand, she took it and allowed herself to be led down the ropes and across the ship to the captain's cabin.

"I couldn't..." She shakily said, though she tried to keep the tremor out of her voice.

He gave her a strange look. "You be preferin' to be sleepin' with the crew?"

She shook her head frantically, deciding one man was better than... However many were on the ship. Jack waved his arm at the open door to the cabin. "After ye, then."

He followed her in, pulling a hammock from the ceiling. His eyes offered her a choice: his bed or the hammock. She inwardly weighed each choice. The bed was his, and the hammock could be hers. She wouldn't have to wake up to the smell of man and wonder what had happened to her, sending her into another panic attack. However, the hammock was not comfortable to curl up in. One could lie on their back, maybe their side, but she preferred to sleep on her stomach, curled into a ball. Tonight, of all nights, she decided she needed comfort.

'But you also need space,' her inner voice warned.

So she took the hammock. She turned so she was on her side, her knees slightly tucked into her chest. Her face was facing in the direction of Jack as he clambered into his own bed and lay down. She hoped she could trust him. He had comforted her, given her a place to sleep, a way to escape.

As she tried to fall asleep, she wondered what would have happened if she were still in Tortuga. Her mother would be laughing at her, undoubtedly. She would say something about how that was how life worked as a woman in Tortuga. 'Ya give 'em what they'll want, or they take it from ye.' She could hear her voice, harsh from all the years of drinking. She would have to go to bed that night, without pity or a consoling word. She would have to awaken the next day to go about her job again, and, undoubtedly she would be kept up all night by the horrid images playing through her mind. The next day, something similar may happen, with her reflexes dulled by lack of sleep. She would never sleep again, and would waste away until even the men could have no fun with her.

She shuddered. She was glad to be on this ship, where she stood a chance at having a decent life. She could learn to care for herself, and until then, Jack would take care of her.

Smiling, she shut her eyes and drifted into a peaceful slumber that eventually turned into a fitful sleep. She writhed around, moaning, the hammock creaking loudly enough to rouse Jack. The poor girl had been through a bit in the last day, maybe more that he didn't know.

He stared down at her sweaty face, then carefully brushed a strand of dark hair from her eye. He then took a blanket from his own bed and draped it over her, petting her head gently until her jerky movements breathing slowly eased, but she did not wake.

Jack stood there by her side for what seemed an eternity. Each time she would drift back to her nightmare, he would return to streaking her hair until she calmed. And when she did, he would watch her for a moment before resuming his place sitting on the edge of his bed. Eventually, slumber took him as well.


	4. Chapter Four

Cassandra wasn't the only woman on the ship. In fact, Elizabeth Swann was also currently residing on the Black Perl, providing the heading to the Dead Man's chest. From what Jack had told her before they left the cabin, she was in love with a Will Turner, all set to be married, in fact. Then, Lord Becket had stomped in and arrested them both. Will was send to get Jack, but ended up on the Dutchman. Now Elizabeth was here, intent on freeing Will. At least that was how Jack had described it that next morning.

The drunk, scruffy man who flipped the table was also aboard, though he was standing close to the rails every time she saw him. She wondered how much rum he had drunk and how long it would take to get it out of his system so he could stop retching over the side of the ship. Some of the crew called him commodore, and it seemed they did that to anger him, and it seemed to work. When asked, Jack said he was ex-commodore Norrington, a man that had attempted to catch this group of pirates many a time before.

And the man at the helm was Cotton, who couldn't talk without his parrot. The short one (the only one shorter than her) was Marty, the funny one with the wooden eye that seemed to fall out all the time was Ragetti, and his relative was Pintel, though Cassandra had yet to see him yet. The round one from before was Gibbs, the captain was Jack Sparrow, and, mind you, don't forget the captain in front of that. He assigned her to man the crow's nest while not learning to fight. The rest of the crew were buisy coaxing as much speed out of the black sails as possible, on jacks order of corse. He seemed spooked, always peering through his telescope at the ocean around him.

While the two of them were not going about their duties, he taught her how to handle a sword. He also thought her that she needed more muscle in her entire body if she ever wanted to hold her own. It was a couple day's journey to wherever they were going, so he had her work learning to tie a sail, secure a cannon, as well as fire one. So far, she had almost had her foot run over twice, as well as a crew member she didn't know while demonstrating how to shoot a cannon.

Her new clothes now had sweat and sea building up at the hems, as well as the creases where her joints bent. Her short hair was oily and salty, and she decided she would have to cut it again, this time with a bit of precision. She worked all day, sometimes all night, learning to keep a ship going. She still slept in the hammock in Jack's cabin, but when she took a break she went first to the crow's nest. She was beginning to love the view it offered of the open ocean all around them, the blue sparkling in the sun.

It was on one of these breaks that she saw the sails. She had been staring tranquilly at the sea when something appeared on the far reaches if her vision. It looked to be shaped like a ship, but she looked around just in case it was just a rock or island. When she looked back, it was gone.

"Oi! Jack," she shouted down to him. He was at the helm, though Cotton was the one at the wheel. The captain instead was staring around that ocean, much as she had been a moment ago.

"Cass! I haven't seen ye in... Five minutes! What?" Indeed, it had been a short time since she had finished attempting to sword fight with Jack. She was proud that she had actually been able to block him once or twice, yet she still hadn't managed to land a hit on him yet. He had said that, should she be confronted with an opponent more skilled than herself, she ought to attempt to outwit them. Anger them, maybe, because an angry opponent is a sloppy opponent, and therefore she would even the score a bit.

"Sail," she said. "Starboard. Just disappeared." A flash of panic on Jack's face before he bellowed for the crew to increase the speed. He then disappeared into his cabin to emerge a moment later with a jar of dirt. They were close to their destination, Gibbs estimated. Jack seemed happy about that. Whatever had him spooked... It meant nothing good for the rest of them.

Truth be told, Cassandra was glad for the work. It kept her distracted, which was definitely something she needed right then. She needed to keep her thoughts occupied as she healed, both body and mind.

By the second day, her arms showed a toned muscle that hadn't been there before. Her cheeks used to have a rounded quality to them, but now her cheek bones were a bit more visible. Callouses had formed on her palms, and a few blisters dotter her feet. She promptly opened them with her knife and washed them out with a bit of alcohol. She then stole one of Jack's shirts and tore it up for bandages. If he noticed, he would definitely have a fit, but I wasn't interested in getting an infection and dying. Overall, she looked like a pirate now.

Every day after the initial sighting, she noticed the ship-like shape on the horizon. And every day, she told Jack, just to have it disappear again. This didn't seem to surprise him though. If anything, it made him more paranoid. Every time she asked what was bothering him, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. Cassandra just hoped it wasn't the Navy or Jones. But the way that Jack was acting... It must be one of the two. She hoped they would escape. The thing that kept her worry at bay was the knowledge that the Pearl was the fastest ship in the Caribbean. The Navy had tried to outrun her, but had failed. The Dutchman, however... That was what worried her. But she didn't think about that.

It was like that for two days. Three days since the incident. Already she was changing. Her shy demeanor was fading fast, being replaced by a confident, headstrong one. When once she would have been polite, she was sarcastic. She wasn't sure what she would act like while angry, but she hoped it wasn't simply making idle threats she couldn't fulfill or angry, harmless glares. Even Norrington noticed the change, and he hardly even knew her. He had, however, herd her shrieks the day she joined the crew. He had seen her tears, heard her sobs. The rest of the crew had as well, but gave the lass some space. At least most of the crew. A few jeered at her behind her back, and she either didn't know or just didn't care.

On the third day of her voyage at sea, the next big event happened. She had just finished another 'fight' with Jack, and was laying out on the deck. Some of the crew had gone below to escape the heat, and she wished she could take a swim. She had picked a space on the deck where she could lean against a wall and be in the shade, but could still see everything that went on about the ship. Nothing was going on, save the remaining crew's lethargic movements. She debated weather or not she should climb up to the crow's nest where there may be a breeze. Taking the chance, she bellowed to Jack where she was going in case he needed her around, then picked herself up slowly, peeling sticky skin from the planks. She could see the imprint of the wood on her fingers, giving them an almost striped look.

Gripping the ropes in sweaty hands, she clambered up to her usual post where indeed it was much cooler with the breeze blowing around. Sighing, she looked again at the surrounding ocean. Below them, she could see the shadow of the Perl. Except, it was on the wrong side in proportion to the ship and the angle of the sun...

She was about to yell for Jack when a hand clamped down over her mouth. She still tried to scream, but it was completely muffled by the appendage covering her mouth. Thankfully she could still breathe, but she felt something wrapping itself around her ear. She clawed at it, only to have her arm also restrained by what felt like a claw. Then she was hauled backwards, and the world turned black.


	5. Chapter Five

The shadow under the Pearl disappeared along with Cassandra, though it wasn't noticed, what with no one but Cassandra having seen it. She, however, was discovered missing ten minutes later. No one had seen her come down from the crow's nest, and no one could find her in the water or on the ship.

There was only one man Jack knew could accomplish such a feat. He had a feeling he also knew why she was taken.

Now there were two things depending on him finding that heart: the girl and his soul. As he returned to the helm, his fright from her loss having faded at the realization that she was gone, he called off the search for her, ordering the crew instead to put more wind in the sails. If the Dutchman was that close behind them, they didn't have much time. He would have to find the heart, and only then could he blackmail his freedom as well as hers. He just hoped he wouldn't be too late.

\-------

Cassandra definatly thought he was too late. She knew her fate when she saw what ship she was on and knew Jack didn't care enough about her to risk his crew and his precious Perl for her against odds that were so incredibly against him. That didn't stop her from becoming angry that he would leave her to the crew of the Flying Dutchman and their heartless captain. She was afraid, and anyone who was in her position and not trembling in their boots was a fool.

She could feel her barriers falling as the captain drew nearer to her, his steps marked by the odd thump of his crab leg every other step. She had thought she could be strong in the fade of pain and death, but clearly not. She had grown comfortable with the crew of the Black Perl, knowing none of them would touch her and risk Jack's wrath. Though she hardly had spoken to any of them, she saw the weary looks they shot her and had seen Jack keeping a watchful eye on her during the day. He might have threatened them to keep their distance, which had definatly allowed her to become more comfortable on the ship. But now she was surrounded by men who could and would do her harm... It all went to show that she really wasn't as strong as she thought she was. That thought alone made her break into fresh sobs.

Mocking laughter from the crew made her sob all the more fervently, and she burried her head in her hands. Once the darkness had faded, the presence behind her had also left. She still did not know who had taken her from the ship, but she assumed it was one of the crew. From what she had seen when she first opened her eyes, the crew was made up entirely of fish-people. She had always assumed that they were men, cursed to never step foot on land again. They instead looked to have taken parts of the sea and added it to their person, some melding into different forms, like the eel man she had seen first. His entire head was that of an eel, and the way it moved, as if detached from the res of him made her jump back in alarm. He had taken the sword from her belt, not attempting not to touch her.

The captain clunked his way closer to her, but she still would not look up. She curled in on herself, sinking into a kneeling position before falling on her side, knees pressed as close to her chest as possible. The sea water that covered the floor soaked into her clothes, and she shivered as she wept. The salt stunk her eyes, as well as the various cuts on her person.

"Get up-uh." The voice was cruel, with some sort of accent she couldn't place and a sort of popping noise that came after the words were spoken. Despite the command, she did not move, save for her heaving back. "Get up-uh, ya filthy wench-uh!" Again, she did not move. If anything, she curled up tighter at the harsh tone. This caused an even louder outbreak of laughter from the crew, prompting more sobs.

Something grabbed her by her shoulders and lifted her form to her feet. When released, she fell, almost in slow motion, back to her original position on the deck. The captain sighed in an annoyed sort of way before again lifting her to a standing position. This time, he held her up. "Do ye fear death-uh, lass?" Yes, she did. She gave no response. "Stop yer miserable weeping, wench," he bellowed, which had the desired effect as she shrieked and tried to move backwards. "Ah take it-uh ye know who I am-uh? Where ye are-uh?" This time she nodded, not able to look him in the face. Another bout of laughter erupted from the crew. A few of them even pretended to cry, one rubbing his spiky face until he realized he had got his hand stuck. He then proceeded to flail around. Had she been in any different situation, she would have laughed.

"Brilliant-uh! To the brig. The rest o' ye, back ta work-uh!" When he dropped her, another man took his place and hefted her over her shoulder. Barnacles and muscles dug into her stomach as he lifter her over his shoulder, cackling. She screeched in fury and fear, kicking her legs weakly. This did nothing but egg him on. Instead of walking down the last steps to the brig he jumped down, loosening his grip on her slightly so she almost fell. One of the sharper things attached to his shoulder cut into her, puncturing the skin on her stomach. She screeched again, this time in pain. The legs on his back, those of some sort of crustacean, wiggled at her, increasing her fright.

After defending another two flights of stairs, she was covered in cuts and puncture marks and what wasn't cut could feel the warm blood slowly collecting on her shirt. She was then thrown into a sea-covered cell, the floor covered in water as deep as her ankles. Various sea-things floated about, or clung to the walls and bars, both of which were slimy to the touch. She squeaked as the door clanged shut behind her. Shark-man laughed again, the sound ringing in the open space and resounding off the bars used to keep uncooperative souls captive.

Once again, she curled in on herself, and the sobs racked her body once more. She was so afraid she could not even form coherent thought. All that was there was the fright, terror, and the knowledge that she was doomed to either one hundred years of torture or imminent death. 

She trembled, knees knocking together, blood tingling the water around her a feint pink. Every inch of her stung, ached, and itched. It was there, curled up in a few inches of water and slime, that she first heard the organ. The first notes were played to a tune indecipherable to her ear. To her it sounded like someone banging a large object on the keys. In reality it was someone playing notes so quickly it sounded as such. After a few moments, it slowed gradually to a pace where she could decipher the tune. A haunting melody played out, echoing through the ship and giving it a eery feel. It sounded as if it were being played by three sets of hands, one on the chords, one on the actual melody, and a final one playing a complex background for the entire piece. 

Yet again, her sobs eased and she attempted to pull herself together. It was beautiful, in its own way, full of emotion that made her heart pound. Whoever was playing had lost something, and this song was his ode to whatever it was. 

Cassandra pulled herself to a sitting position, grasping her soaked knees in clammy hands. Gently, she swayed to the melody. Whenever the crew came to get her, she would be offered a choice: servitude or death. She weighed each option in her mind, though her self-preservation instinct may have biased some of the points. Serve, and live forever. Never taste death, continue to sail as a part of the crew on the most feared ship on the seven seas. She would also become a fish-person. Die, and... Die. No longer feel life's pain nor it's pleasures.

Dying was the coward's way out. But it was also maybe the smarter of the two choices. But no, she wanted to live.

'Even a cursed life? How many of those men would trade places with you to end their torture?' She thought to herself. 'A measly ex-Tortuga wench pretending to be a pirate. Who would want to be her?' The answer was simple: those tortured souls who longed for the end.

There was no good choice, yet she was far too afraid of death to choose the other option. "I... I... I... I will... I will ssserve." She said quietly to herself. At that moment, the music stopped.


	6. Chapter 6

They were almost there, Jack could feel it. Or, at least, he hoped that was what he felt. His usually steady stomach had taken to churning every so often. He refused to acknowledge the other possibility: that he was worried about Cass. The last night he had woken up with a start, staring at the empty hammock where Cass had slept for a brief period. She did not deserve to be taken, not after everything that she had struggled to recover from.

He figured Jones had taken her simply to frighten him and make him desperate, possibly causing him to engage the Dutchman in a fight to win back his bonny lass. In the chaos, Jones could easily kill him, as was his goal presently. If it weren't being used on him, he would think it clever. The heartless man... What would he do to a girl who was trying to mend her own heart?

He would torture her, then offer her a choice to live a hundred years more in horrid servitude or be killed and sent to the depths.

He took it back. He was worried about the girl. And he hoped that they were close. Elsewise he might just turn the Pearl around and fight for her, though the cause was hopeless.

'The lass might find the eunuch,' he though hopelessly. 'Not sure if that's a good thing or not.'

\---

Jones knew the moment someone joined his crew, meaning that, while in the middle of playing his stress away on his organ, he simply knew someone new was bound to the Dutchman. Part of the crew, part of the ship, and one could only join the crew while on the ship. The only one able to make that choice was in the brig, and he hoped that it was not as he knew it was. The Dutchman did not need a woman on board. He did not want a woman aboard.

It was a woman, was it not, who brought this curse on him? And that same woman caused him to cut his own still-beating heart out, yes? No, there was no need for this girl to stay any longer than necessary, though it was he who had taken her aboard in the first place.

He had hoped, due to his constant observation of that blasted Sparrow, that he would turn and fight for the girl, where he, Jones, could kill him himself rather than making his crew do the work when they got to Isla Cruses, or simply call the Kracken to finish the entire problem and sink the damned Pearl and her captain. There wasn't even a question on weather or not they would make it to the island: they were sailing directly above the Dutchman, though they did not know it. Jones knew the distance from their present location to his heart.

Frustrated, he stomped to the door of his cabin with more force than normal, the tentacles of his beard writhing like snakes. The wench was causing him more trouble that she was worth. Sparrow had not done as he expected, rather he kept the sails up and followed the path to Isla Cruses, seemingly not caring for the fate of the lass.

Jones has been sure there was something between them, that Sparrow had found female company he liked well enough to keep with him for a while, company he might even love. Clearly that was not so, elsewise the two of them would be dead already. But now the wench was part of the crew, and Sparrow would have the heart.

The few who were standing by the door scuttled back as he threw it open and stormed to the brig. She would pay for this. He would scar her unmarked back with the cat. When he was through, the crew could have her for all he cared. Then, he would send her to land where the crew would kill her in front of Sparrow. Two birds, one stone.

\---

She heard his irregular footfalls descending into the brig and curled up on herself once more. She wondered why he would come himself instead of sending a crew member to roughen her up.

Cassandra closed her eyes, knowing he would harm her when he saw her. She hoped it wouldn't take too long. She didn't know how long she could hold out, but she suspected her sanity might snap soon.

"Look at me-uh!" He shouted not a moment later, glaring angrily at her through the bars. She raised her head, but she only looked at where his nose once was. "At least ye've stopped that incessant cryin'," he muttered, thinking she wasn't able to hear, undoubtably. "What in the powers is a lass doin', joinin' the crew o' the Flyin' Dutchman?" His voice was the harshest she had ever heard it, his accent becoming more and more pronounced. "Don't ye know me story? What got ye to thinkin' joinin' be a good idea? Answer me!"

"I'm sorry," she said in a very small voice, one even she could barely hear. 

"Wha' was that?" 

Louder, she clarified. "I am sorry for however I wronged you. I am sorry for how the world has given up on you, for how she left you. I am sorry you can never be free or happy again because of her." She knew she had gone too far, but the words had just kept spilling out.

His face went blank for a moment, even his beard stopped writhing. Everything about him simply stopped moving and became blank, she imagined his eyes going blank, though she had never dared to look into them. She didn't even know what color they might be, but she guessed they were green like the sea.

Without warning, he moved through the bars and grabbed her throat with his claw. "Do not pretend to understand. Ye all are the very same!" He slapped her, and while his hand contacted her face, he released her throat, causing her to fly from him and hit the far wall. It was there she crumpled, blood oozing from her scalp and eyes completely lifeless.

Jones knew when someone died on his ship. This meant he knew that the girl was not dead, though had she been human, she would have been. He left the brig, not knowing what had gone wrong.

Why had she apologized? She surely did not blame herself for his curse, did she? And who said he wanted his life to be any different? He growled angrily at the few who had once again gathered at his door, whacking the shortest one with his crab appendage, then wrenching the door open once more. Women were confusing, and the world would be better without them. Sitting down at his organ, he began to play again, only to find he did not truly want to play Calypso's song. Some water seeped in from boards above his head, a bit sliding down his hat and onto his face. With one tentacle, he wiped it away, as well as the next and the next, until he was unsure of where all the water was coming from.

He would have Maccus fix the leak later on. Staring at the unused cot in the far corner, he wondered what it would be like to sleep like a normal man once more. For as long as he remembered, he had fallen asleep at his organ, playing his stress, frustration, and anger away. He did not want to go out on deck and face the idiocy of the men outside, particularly that Turner whelp. Had not one been enough for one ship?

'Clearly not,' he thought, deciding to try again for the tune. It came out half-hearted and less of what it usually was. Nonetheless, he played on and on, over and over all through the night until he slumped over as he always had.


	7. Chapter 7

It was dark where she was. There was no air, no scent, no nothing. Just the inky black. 

She didn't like it.

Flailing her arms and legs, she tried to clear her vision, but with no such luck. She couldn't even feel her limbs, much less tell if they were actually obeying her commands or not. Then, out of nowhere, a face appeared. The face of the man who had done this to her. She was not afraid though. She stared death right in his tentacled face, hoping he could read the defiance in her eyes. His face, however, remained unchanged.

"Mangy cur! Look me in the eye!" She was mad, mad that this man had broken her. He had turned her mind into this empty void, the fear overwhelming her to the point of oblivion. This anger caused her to loose her fear of the man. He was heartless, yes, and unpredictable, just as the sea he ruled. 

She hated him.

Before she could get on with a well deserved dressing down, twin slits of pure white pain exploded through her vision. She blinked once, twice, and her eyelids stayed open. Her vision was as if she were looking through two very long twin tunnels at the world around her; as if she were somewhere deep in her mind, looking out once again. The face in her mind still peered at her, face just as unreadable as before.

"Yer awake." He almost sounded disappointed.

"So I am," she tried to say, but her lips wouldn't move and her tounge felt swollen. She could feel both the ridged top of her mouth and the spongy bottom at the same time, which was not something she was pleased with.

Slowly, her vision began zooming in, then quicker and quicker until she had to blink several times to remain steady and keep from heaving.

"This silence truly suits ye," he said snidely, reaching to hold her jaw in his hand, the tentacle finger wrapping itself up her face and close to her ear. She shuddered, disgusted. Suddenly he twisted his grip so his thumb was pressed at the hinge of her jaw and pried her mouth open. At the sight of her trouble, he laughed cruely, know it it was his work. "As past to the crew, the first thing ye learn is," his expression turned dark at this, "not to distract the captain!" He finished in a bellow. "And how, might you ask, had you been able to use that wretched mouth of yours, is the crew punished-uh?" The darkness grew darker in his face, and a leering smile replaced the angry lone his mouth had been in previously. "Lashings!"

He picked up her limp body and easily carried her under his arm. He made no attempt to not hurt her as he carried her up to the deck, which was empty aside from them. "Yer lucky the crew's at the island, else they'd be seein' this too-uh!" 

Her mind raced to try and place what he meant by 'the island'. It churned around while Jones bound her hands to the mast, and suddenly, she knew...

The island that Jack was sailing for. The island with this man's heart burried somewhere on it's shores. Jack was neerby!

Her beautiful black coat was torn from her back, the threads at the seams holding the sleeves on tearing clean apart and the body of the thing flying into the water that surrounded them. The brown shirt underneath was ripped open, hanging loosely by a single thread at the waist and the sleeves at her sholders. All that was left were the bindings for her chest, which did not hinder him from whipping her back raw.

The first blow landed, leaving raised red streaks on her otherwise unmarred back. Jones did not know how many lashes he would give, he did however know that the key and whelp were gone, and it was because she had distracted him.

Ten blows, and blood seeped from multiple gashes, some joining the blood of the rest of the crew on the quartermaster's cat.

Jones kept going, loosing count until her back was covered in her own blood and she was slouched against the mast, with only her hands supporting her and the rest if her lying on the deck. She looked truly pitiful, not even able to shriek for mercy. The best she could do was make a quiet grunt that he never payed attention to.

Then she stopped moaning altogether. She lay there, a beaten, bloody mess, unconscious. The sight did nothing for Jone's rage. Her harm would not bring the key back, nor would it gaur enter his safety.

Damned wench, messing everything to pieces. He should have learned and released her from her duties and killed her on the spot. Why he had kept her, he did not know...

Picking her up once more, he replaced her in the brig, returning a minute later with a shirt found in some of the more recent plunder. She could use her old clothing to make new bindings, as her old ones were still on the deck, having been severed in half by the blows.

Looking down at her pathetic form, he almost felt pity, that such a weak life existed. He scoffed and left, planning to return when the crew returned with a bucket of salt water and a mop to swab the deck. The salt would sting the open wounds, though they may not be open by the time the crew got back. Being relatively immortal, they were able to heal slightly faster than humans. She would wear those scars forever, but they would heal sooner than normal.

\--- 

The time he returned came faster than expected, and by Maccus' expression, he knew the majority of the crew would be receiving the same treatment as Cassandra. He sent Hadras down below with the salt water, instructing him on what was to happen. He did not specify weather or not he was allowed to take advantage if the girl. Maccus would go down later with her new assignment, and her torturous new life would begin.

Somehow, the thought did not give him as much satisfaction as it should have.

\---

The heart was in the jar of dirt, the dirt was in his hands, and he was on the Pearl, getting as far away from the island as possible, therefore loosing the fish-people as well. Cass was not among them, which he supposed was a good sign. If she was not with them, then it meant she was still fighting.

Brave girl.

The Dutchman surfaced right next to them, right as he thought they were safe. Fueld by anger and a healthy dose of fear, he shouted insults at the offending captain.

"Oi! Fishface! Loose somethin'? Oi!" As he was walking down the deck, he neglected to realize there were stairs in front of him, and he fell, till clutching the jar of dirt. The rest of the crew cringed every time e made impact with the floor, until he lay at the bottom. With no regard o is own state of health, he jumped up once more, jar till in hand and completely undamaged. "Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git? Look what I got. I got a jar of dirt! I got a jar of dirt! And guess what's inside it!"

"enough!" jones bellowed.

his grin fading significantly, jack muttered "hard to starboard." Elizabeth echoed the command, then Pintel, than Gibbs. The rest of the crew quickly obeyed, and she ship swerved quickly, though not quick enough to dodge the volley Jones had fired.

"Did ye loose somethin' Sparrow? Something... Female-uh?" Jack heard the jibe, and for a moment was torn before attempting a doomed rescue mission. "She wishes she was dead, Sparrow. Because o' ye!"

"Faster," he muttered to Elizabeth, who once again echoed it. He couldn't even depend on the whelp to care for her, as he was now aboard the Pearl.

Once again the Dutchman fired, blasting more holes in the ship. From below, he heard Pintel yell "she's on us!" He knew as much, and did not expect Jones to give up just yet. He did not expect him to give up at all. One more time, the Dutchman shot, this time from the triple guns at her stern.

"She's falling behind!" Elizabeth yelled, and Jack was relieved for a moment.

"Aye, and we've got her!" Gibbs yelled.

Will looked at him questioningly. "We're the faster?"

"Against the wind," Gibbs explained, "the Dutchman beats us. That's how she takes her prey. But with the wind..."

"We rob her advantage." Will finished.

Jack Sparrow knew something was wrong when he saw the Dutchman stop giving chase. He could only assume that they were either safe, or doomed to be eaten by Jone's pet. He suspected it was the latter, though he could hope the opposite, could he not?

"They're giving up!" Marty shouted happily.

Will, however, was not so jovial. Neither was Jack, but he gave no hint of it. "My father is on that ship. If we  
can outrun her, we can take her. We should turn and fight," the eunuch said bravely. The news was somewhat of a surprise to Jack, who had thought that his old friend was long dead by now, though he could assume that death would be a better fate than whatever he was subject to on that ship.

"Why fight when you can negotiate? All one needs... is the proper leverage," he replied loudly, grabbing the jar of dirt once more. Suddenly, she ship rocked, and it sailed from his hands and smashed on the deck. Immediately Jack leapt on it, searching among the scattered dirt and shattered glass for the heart. "Where is it? Where is the thump-thump?"

"We must've hit a reef," someone yelled.

Will's eyes widened, and Jack knew for sure the great beastie was already upon them. "No. It's not a reef! Get away from the rail!" Elizabeth asked what it was, and grimly he confirmed Jack's suspicion.

"The Kraken. To arms!"


	8. Chapter 8

Cassandra scratched when she woke up, something stinging her back like fire snakes slithering about. She lay face-down in a puddle of seawater, the pieces of her old clothes floating next to her. Her back was bare, and when she saw it, she shrieked and promptly vomited into the cell around her.

For a few minutes, she lost the contents of her stomach, until she was left with only dry heaves. Her back was positively mutilated, the cuts from the lashes so deep they cut muscle, and blood still leaked from the deepest of them. Gingerly, she attempted to touch her back, and immediately a jolt of white-hot pain erupted into her vision and she yelped, quickly withdrawing her hand. Her fingers, though she did not look at them, were covered in blood.

The seawater around he was a pinkish hue, and the salt in it stung at all her open wounds, weather on her stomach or her back. Everything hurt, and she gave up trying to move.

Dropping her head into the water so only her face was above the surface and her neck was at a very uncomfortable angle, she closed her eyes, only to open them at lightning speed when she heard footsteps coming down the steps to the brig and the cell she had spent the past few days in. Once again she squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to slow her beating heart, which was franticly trying to escape her chest. Her back heaved with every breath, and pain continued to surge through her body. She was in too much pain to realize that the footfalls were not the irregular ones of the captain, but rather the slightly steady ones of Hadras caring a bucket if seawater.

"Wakey wakey, little Crylass! Captain says... By the powers!" Hadras was shocked at the condition of the girl in front of him. Unlike her, he could see her entire back, which, like the part she had seen, was a bloody mess. The water nearest her had turned a dark red by this point, and tendrils of it were spreading as she continued to bleed. He had never seen a lashing this bad: the captain must have been angry. He had only seen the girl once before: the day she had been brought to the ship, fighting and screaming for the life of her. For her to be reduced to this pile of pain... He felt pity for her. Not enough to disobey the captain, as that would lead to more pain for him, but enough to toss the bucket to the side of her so she was only slightly sprayed by the salt.

She shrieked like a devil, writhing around in the water. Quickly checking to see if anyone was approaching, Hadras melded through the bars of her prison and picked her up so she wouldn't inhale the water. With a sinking feeling, he realized the water had chunks floating in it. The poor girl had lived in this hell for who knew how long when even the crew did not deal with such, even when first introduced to the ship. Sure, they were pushed around, but they got over it and were accepted after awhile.

The girl was shirtless, the bindings she had on her chest fell away as he hauled her upright. He tried not to stare. Once, he had been a gentleman, and his old personality struck him at odd times. An old white shirt floated close to her, though it was hardly white anymore. Blood and gunk had colored it a molted brown color, mixed in with greens and reds. The jacket and shirt she was wearing earlier also floated by, but they offered no color, and were torn to pieces. Quickly, he draped the disgusting shirt around her shoulders and pulled it closed in front of her. She did not open her eyes once, but the hollowness in her cheeks and the hopeless set of her mouth showed she was locked in some deep part of her consciousness. That was where he left her as he ran above deck to find her some suitable clothing.

\---

Jones watched eagerly as his pet rose from the water to drag the Pearl and her crew to the deaths from whence they came. He also watched as Sparrow set out on a separate boat to save his own life, predictably.

"Captain ought to go down with his ship," Palifico said behind him.

"Aye, " Jones agreed heartily. He would notify his pet that one more boat would meet its end... Until Sparrow did something he did not expect: he began rowing back to the Pearl. "And so he does." He lowered the telescope a bit as someone walked up the stairs. It turned out to be Hadras, returned from waking the damned wench. She was a pox on them all, really. Even the crew had taken to calling her 'Crylass', as that was what she had been doing the only time they had seen her. The Crylass, or Cry as they also called her, had not been seen, though they all knew she was in the brig. They were, however, forbidden to venture down there unless given explicit permission from Jones himself. If they all went down there for their break, they would never come back up.

Once more, Jones raised the telescope to see smoke rising from the ship and his pet quickly withdrawing her tentacles. What had they done? If she were hurt, it would be the Locker for the lot of them. He had raised that Kracken since it was but a baby squid, and he was not about to stand by as some miscreant crew hurt her. In the time that she was under the water again, regrouping and planning her next attack, the crew that was left was loaded into two longboats, though two figures remained. One was the blonde wench and the other was Sparrow. The wench walked over to Sparrow, and he watched as she grabbed his face and smashed her lips into his in a ferocious kiss, backing him up against the main mast.

Jones laughed as he imagined the wench's reaction to seeing her love with another. That was how it was for him: not only was Calypso not there, but when he found her, writing about with some landlubber, it had broken his heart. She had not even tried to excuse herself, saying it was in her nature. And yet, he still loved her, though all the pain and curses she brought apron him. Only then did he realize how petty that sounded. She had pretended to love him, when in fact she had used his love to manipulate him into doing her job for her. And he had agreed, like a lovesick whelp.

He did not love Calypso. He did not love anyone at all.

One of the Kracken's giant tentacles emerged from the water and blocked his view of the couple, but he continued to watch until he saw the wench, and the wench alone, leave the ship. She must have convinced Sparrow to save her, a damned incredible feat, one which the wench in the brig could not do herself. He reminded himself to tell her of that when they met next, knowing that it would ignite pain in her eyes again. He looked forward to seeing her face light with emotion, loved seeing her face burn with anger and fear, with pain and hatred. All because of him.

The Kracken began breaking down she ship, and Jones watched as it sunk beneath the waves once more. It and it's captain would go straight to the locker, never to see the light of day again.

Closing the telescope with a clack, he spoke in a self-satisfied voice he used only when a debt was settled, as it just had been. "Jack Sparrow, our debt is settled-uh." Then a thought pushed it's way to the front of his mind: the chest. His crew had retrieved it, but he had to be sure. If he had to send one of them to the locker to retrieve it, there would be hell to pay.

"The captain goes down with his ship," Koliniko muttered, walking up to stand behind him along with Maccus. 

"Turns out not even Jack Sparrow can best the devil," the first mate agreed.

Still agitated by the possible lack of his heart in the chest, Jones jolted away, tentacles twitching more hastily than usual, but not so much as when he was angry. "Open the chest. Open the chest, I need to see it!"

What was inside was a shock. His mouth twitched, his tentacles danced faster and faster, clashing with one another in his anger. The heart, his heart, was gone, the chest empty. "Damn you Jack Sparrah," he bellowed angrily. The crew backed away from their enraged captain wisely.

Below deck, Cassandra heard the curse. Hadras had returned below with a clean shirt and had helped her bind herself once more, even helping her bandage her back a bit. The shirt was long, hanging to her mid thigh, but at least it kept her covered. When Hadras heard the yell, he bolted back to the deck and tossed the molten shirt overboard, destroying the evidence he had helped the little Crylass. 

Cassandra, on the other hand, heard the yell and knew pain was coming for her once again. Somehow she also knew that Jack, along with her hope of being rescued, was dead.

She bowed her head, shaggy hair falling into her scratchy face, and wept softly for her friend.


	9. Chapter 9

The lashing was indeed brutal, the cat opening the wounds on her back once more, as well as creating new gorges in her flesh and muscle. Once again the shirt had been torn from her back and tossed to the deck, though this time the crew watched leeringly, one even darting past the others to pick up the meager piece of cloth. Jones did not even glance at him, rather kept the blows coming and the lass bleeding. Her shrieks were something he had never witnessed in his life: loud and full of pain, they had an inhuman quality that surprised even him. With each blow she became louder and louder, quite the opposite of what usually happened to his victims.

Then, she stopped and slumped to the deck. He paused, bloody cat half-raised for another blow, wondering if she had passed out once again. But no, her eyes were still open, and they peered directly back into his blue ones. She had never dared to do that before, and the fact that now she was able to look him in the eye mildly disturbed him.

She panted for a moment, looking as if she had something she would say to him. He stood, frozen, as well as the rest of the crew. Why her newfound bravery disturbed him he did not know, but her eyes... There was no fear in them. There was no pain, no hatred, no anger... There was strength. Strength that wrapped itself around her like a blanket, allowing her to finally look up at the man who had brought about her living hell. What he saw for himself in those eyes was not fear, not even anger. There was pity, and more prominently, understanding. "I said I was sorry for how she treated ye," she began, coughing up blood and filth and spitting it out next to her, "but I am not she. I am not Calypso!" The last part she bellowed, in a voice he had never come from a lass, much less the one in front of him. It was strong enough to be a war cry, loud enough to rival that of a man twice her size. Then and only then did she slump over, unconscious from blood loss.

Jones did not know what to do. Her words, her face, they were still imprinted in his memory, ringing repeatedly in his mind like some obnoxious church bell. She was not Calypso. No, she was something else entirely, something he did not understand in the least. He did not like that one bit. "A bucket of sea water! Wake the lass up-uh" the command was bellowed angrily, and a few hurried to step to. His eyes never left her torn and heated form, the knowledge that he had done that imprinting itself in his had by the means of the cat still clutched tightly in his mostly human appendage.

The bucket was thrown over her limp form, and she shuddered, but did not wake. Again, a bucket was dumped, and again she did not wake. "Damn you lass!" Jones shouted. He would have to fix her himself, would he not? "Hadras, Turner, step lively and get some rum and cloth. Dresses, even-uh. Bring 'em to the galley-uh." The two singled out hurried to do as commanded, and he reached down and grasped the lass's neck in his crab claw. She flopped around like a fish out if water without anything supporting the rest of her, but Jones did not pay attention. He flipped her, stomach down, onto his shoulder and carried her limp body down to the galley. He himself could not heal others: he was more the 'destroy and kill' type. Turner could, he did not doubt. The man was too caring for his own good, as seen when he took his son's place at Liar's dice. The belligerent man did bit belong on a ship like the Dutchman.

 

Jones hastily threw everything from the rotted old table and placed the lass face-down on it. He then did his best to pull the bindings from her molted skin as well as the bandages from the previous whipping. Her back heaved, but she still would not wake. Had he beaten her to the point where she could hardly feel her back any longer? He did not know, but did know that he had never whipped a man more than he had her.

'She did not deserve it-uh,' a voice in his head spoke softly. "She is not responsible for your fate.'

"But she is responsible for the key being lost-uh," he said out loud.

'Is she? Or are you not wanting to take the blame yourself?'

"She distracted me!"

'You were distracted.'

"She loves Sparrow!"

'Why do ye care?' His eyes widened at that. Why did he care? If he had wanted to use his death as means to hurt her, would he have not done it mere minutes ago? But he had not. So why did he care?

His thoughts were interrupted by Hadras bursting in, dresses apron dresses piled in his sea-covered arms. His head, which must have been knocked off at some point or another, was perched upright on top of the stack, grinning stupidly. Behind him, Turner made a much less disruptive entrance. He too was carrying cloth, but also a small canteen of alcohol. "Use what ye need to clean her up. The rest be for her to sleep on," Jones said hollowly. Quickly, he stomped from the room and back to his own cabin, trying to escape the thoughts of his own mind. Not even his music would give him rest and, now more than ever, did he feel Calypso's curse. He let out a long, bitter bellow of range, pain, and sadness, which mixed with the screeching of his organ as his face and crab arm slammed into the keys.

\---

Bootstrap had his work cut out for him- literally. The gouges from the cat o' nine tails had tore deeply into the muscle and sinew of the woman's back, and, though some of the wounds had begun to form scabs, the deepest of them still wept tears if blood.

He hated to see another human being like this. Not ever had any of the crew received punishment this bad: five lashes, maybe, but he had lost count after watching her fall to the deck at ten lashes. Jones was a cruel man, that was certain. No one knew he could be this cruel, though, and to a woman at that. 

The woman part of that actually did not surprise Bootstrap. He knew the infamous tale of Jones and Calypso, and he knew Jones despised women with a passion. But this young lass... She could not have been older than twenty two. Still a child! And yet, she had suffered something before her introduction to the crew. Something that had made her fear death? Or was it simply that every man fears death, and women were no different?

Either way, he had a job to do. Hadras set about tearing up a dress to use for bandages and new bindings for her, as well as a new shirt. The loathsome scarf tied around her waist was cut off and used to blot away the blood. Bootstrap knew she was likely to get infected, which was why he was glad to have found some rum. Surprisingly the captain had thought of it, but who knew what he meant?

"There now, it's going ta hurt a bit..." He poured a bit of the alcohol on a strip of cloth from a blue satin dress and wiped her back down with it, every so often adding more rum to the strip. She hardly cringed the entire time.

He worked for near a half hour, cleaning and patching, then bandaging the entire mess once more. Blood still soaked through the bandages, but it was cleaned and could begin to heal at that point. "It will be a fitful night for 'er," he said sadly to Hadras, who was examining a particularly fancy gold dress. "Help me move 'ee, will ye?" Grunting, Hadras moved from his spot and helped Bootsrtap move the limp girl's body to the floor and the pile of dresses. One, a softer material, was cut open and draped over her naked back. 

The two more compassionate pirates left after one last long glance at the girl on the floor, taking the glow of the lantern with them and leaving her in darkness.

\---

Far off in her shack, Tia Dalma was enraged. She could feel that He was no longer as infatuated with her as he had been, if he even cared for her any at all anymore. The only difference was that she knew there was a woman aboard the Dutchman, and that his heart was starting to beat for another. She was a mighty goddess, though trapped in a fleshy prison. She knew Davy Jones had come to care for the wench from Tortuga. It was not love, she knew that. The heartless man was incapable of love, ever since the Incident. That did not mean she had relinquished her claim on him, though.

This girl, this mere girl, dared try to take her place. Cackling, she threw her collection of crab legs and claws, cursing the girl to a life of utter pain aboard the Dutchman until killed by the captain himself. She would become cursed as the rest of them were, though that part was already cared for. She had joined the crew, she had joined the curse. All Tia Dalma needed to do was enhance it slightly, make it speed up, cause more pain, and render whatever physical appearance she had into that of a monster.


	10. Chapter 10

Jones hoped she had woken at this point. With no hourglass to tell the time, he depended sold on how far they had come compared to how fast the ship traveled. The damnable wench had to hurry up and heal, otherwise he would... What would he do? Inflict more pain? For once he felt helpless, but not in the usual sense. He wanted this lass to stop being so much of a mystery, but the only way to have her explain herself would be to let her wake on her own time. He could not pry answers from her lips with pain. In fact, he could do nothing at all. 

He paced around his cabin, cursing the lass roundly for being such a nag in his side. What was she playing at? Of corse he knew she was not Calypso. The sea goddess was a real beauty, while this lass... She was rather plain, and every time he had seen her she had been covered in filth, sometimes blood.

Eventually, he gave up his wondering and bellowed his rage to the empty room before stomping angrily out to check on her.

The men had left a wile ago, leaving her in the cold, dark room. It was obvious she had moved some, as almost all the cloth was a bit rumpled and the dress that had once been covering her was no longer even touching her. Droplets from the ceiling dripped around her, giving her skin a rather eery look in the light of his lantern. As he watched her, she rolled her shoulders and moaned before flipping her head so it was facing away from him. Her relatively short hair was mixed with sweat, sea and blood and stuck to her head where she had been lying on it previously. It had even stopped looking like hair at this point, the tendrils seemingly having fused together into something that looked almost like the fin of a fish.

"Wake up, lass," he said quietly, and then once again, louder. She made no response either time. When he shouted, her hand twitched. Thinking she was too weak to open her eyes, he began to question her. "Why did ye apologize to me-uh? Why do I no longer frighten ye?" She twitched her hand again, and flipped her head once more so she was facing him. Her eyes were open slightly, just enough for him to know she was indeed awake and comprehending what he was asking. For a moment, it looked as if she were trying to open her mouth to reply. But simply could not. He looked down at her, face unreadable as she struggled. 

"That's it, open yer mouth an' explain everything that goes on in that damned head of yers-uh." It was the wrong thing to say, he knew, but he also knew that he was the captain, and it was her duty to obey him no matter what. Except, the bloody lass did not do as he said. The muscles in her face relaxed, her eyes shut, and she flipped herself away from him once more.

He growled and reached over with his pincer arm and flipped her back over, in the process rolling her onto her injured back. She let out a large puff of air at that, but he did not care if she was hurt. He wanted answers, and she had them but would not give them to him. Her eyes flitted open and she looked at him angrily. She was, he could tell, trying to convey a message with her eyes that he clearly was not reading.

Picking her up so he could hear whatever she might mumble, he held her like a baby to his chest. And then, she exhaled.

It was definitely not simply her exuding air. She seemed to be timing her intake and release of breath to a rythum, one he had heard many a time. One that he himself played frequently, though not so much since she had become part of the ship. She continued her pattern of breathing there in his arms, inhaling her way through the notes of the song that played on the music box his first love had given him. He almost dropped her at the realization. When she stopped, he looked down at her form to see her eyes had closed once more, and her breathing had become its usual rhythmic rising and falling. She was asleep once more, her somewhat warm body limply hanging there. Her eyelids were slightly wet with either sweat, condensation, or tears.

Gently he set her back down upon the floor. One of his tentacles from his beard ghosted over her face once before he retreated quickly from the galley. He had an idea of what she meant. She forgave him, forgave hi for hurting her. She meant she understood he was hurt, and still hurting. She echoed his pain, understanding a bit of what he felt. And she still did not hate him.

He had hurt her, mentally and physically, to the point where she could not even move. Something had happened to her in her past. He did not know what, but was now completely sure she had been hurt before. A lost lover, perhaps? A dead mother or father? Whatever it was, it had plagued her for a wile before she had overcome it. He could see that much in the hollowness of her eyes.

She had not torn out her own heart as he had. It had been beaten out of her. And now, the rest of her was beginning to compensate, attempting to heal her once more, the only problem was that she would not heal fully. What he had done, no one could fix.

The lass had joined him in heartlessness. 

\---

"Wake up, lass!"

Someone was yelling at her. Why could they not just leave her be? She was happy where she was. It was warm and safe, something she had not experienced for what felt like years. Nothing could go wrong in this place. There were no cursed pirates trying to take the flesh for her back. There were no fights where one of her friends turned up dead. There was no Tortuga, no Dutchman, and most certainly no Davy Jones.

"Wake up, damn ye!" No, there was most certainly a Davy Jones. And he wanted her to wake up and leave this place. She tried to motion with her hand for him to leave her be, but he did not. And so she came out of her calm place and attempted to regain her consciousness, and thus control of her body. "Why did ye apologize to me-uh? Why do I no longer frighten ye?" She tried to make a 'wait a minute' motion with her hand, but all that happened was it twitched feebly. Finally, her eyelids rose slightly, and she immediately wished they had remained closed. It was sark here, aside from a light source she could not see.

She wanted to see it.

Why did she apologize? Because he was like her. He was hurting, and it was not his fault. She was sorry he had been hurt to this point. Why did he not frighten her anymore? Because there was nothing left to be frightened of. He could hurt her physically, but she understood him now. Now that she had no love left in her.

Finally, her head flipped sides so she was facing him. He was carrying a lantern in his tentacled hand and was glaring down at her, beard twitching and writhing a bit. She strained to try to answer him, but could barely hold her eyes open anymore. She tried, she really did, but no amount of strain made her muscles move. She was just too tired, too weak. She could tell that Jones knew she was trying, especially when he told her to keep trying.

The part about her head being damned canceled that, however. She stopped trying, knowing he would probably hurt her for it. She did not care. Her back hurt enough in its own that she would not feel whatever else he threw at her.

Turning away, she closed her heavy eyelids, letting the darkness of her mind encircle her. While she still held the power in this situation, she would not stand for being insulted. Actually, she couldn't stand to begin with, so she really could not decide what she stood for or not. Literally, at least.

Jones growled and forced her to flip back over to face him, in the process moving her so she was laying on her stinging back. Mentally, she yelped in pain, but all that escaped her was a small puff of air. She once more opened her eyes, trying to convey her displeasure and anger. He didn't seem to notice, and picked her up.

Then she understood. He was hurt, confused, angry that his past love had been brought back to stinging memory by her. He wanted to understand what she was on about. How would she answer him? 

An idea struck her, and she suddenly knew how she would communicate with him. She attempted to use her breathing to sing the song he played on his organ every night. From the look on his face, he understood. He understood that she understood him, did not hate him, might even care a bit for him. That last part was the bit that confused her. How could she have a place in the spot her heart used to be for the captain? He had hurt her to this point, and would do so again and again with no backward thought.

'It is because you understand him and can relate.' That made sense.

She poured all her emotion into huffing that song out, all her pain and hopelessness washing away from her in torrents as he held her. Forbidden tears clouded her vision, and she closed her eyes. It felt so wonderful to let her emotion out into song, and she understood now why Jones played his organ.

The final breath of the song left her, and she fell back into the recesses of her mind once more.


	11. Chapter 11

She was once more pulled from her happy place the next morning, when Bootstrap and Hadras returned to check on her and change her bandages. Bootstrap could have done it on his own, but the other crew member wanted to escape from working for a bit, and decided to tag along. He insisted that he could tear new bandages and pick the girl up while Bootstrap did the actual patching.

Bootstrap could not blame Hadras for wanting to escape duty. He himself was growing more and more distant, sometimes not remembering his own purpose on the ship, let alone his own name. His one hundred years of servitude were not even half over, and he was already becoming part of the ship. Some days he would wake to find the walls of the ship encompassing him, and he would have to break out to return to duty. It had been the same with poor Wyvern, who almost never came out anymore.

Hadras helped him pick up the sleeping girl and place her back on the table, face down. He had been a bit surprised that she was laying on her back in the state she was in, but who was he to argue? She might have been more healed than he had thought. As he unwrapped the old makeshift bandages, he saw something he truly did not expect. "Hadras?" His trembled slightly. "Hadras?" This time it came out a bit more confidently.

"What?" The man with the shell encompassing his head looked at Bootstrap questioningly.

"Go get the captain," Bootsrap said as he looked back at the girl's back. Large barnacles had grown from the wounds, and two fins were sprouting from right below her shoulder blades. Now that he was looking for the changes, he noticed her hair had turned into one single fish fin, flopping from one side of her skull to the other. Even her skin had begun to change turning from it's sunburned state to the slimy exterior of a leech. The leech-likeness did not stop here. Four small leeches had latched on to the spaces between her fingers, and her calloused digits had blackened and grown teeth at the ends.

Two sprouts of dark red coral protruded from her temples, and as he watched, horrified, they grew in length. Before his eyes, she changed to be like the crew faster than it had taken any of the rest of them. One leg shriveled up and turned to dust and he leapt back as a knobby stalk of coral took its place. The other foot grew what seemed like claws on the tips of the toes. When he looked back at her back, it was completely unrecognizable. A whole manner of sea life had seemingly decided that she would make a good home, and settled there. Sea anemone blossomed from where her spine had once been visible beneath her skin, making it look as if Koliniko's face had found a new home. It was absolutely disturbing and horrifying.

Bootsrtap turned to see Hadras still standing there, watching as well. "Go get the captain," he shouted worriedly. What would happen if they were blamed for this, that instead of fixing her, they broke her further? He cringed as he imagined Jones' rage. Of corse, he was not sure exactly why it mattered to the captain that she be fixed. Normally he let the condemned man in the brig to heal themselves, as well as acquire new barnacles and the like.

He shook his head remembering when Wheelback had emerged from the brig with that old wheel fused to his back. He jumped, realizing that she could become fished to the large table she was currently lying on. She would stay there for the remainder of her days if he did not move her quickly. Quickly, he grabbed a dress from the pile she had been sleeping in previously and lifted her onto in, in the process pulling great hunks and splinters off the rickety table. He did not dare look at her face, knowing he would drop her if it turned as horrible as he expected it to. She was now truly one of them, sharing in their curse.

He held her only by the dress so she would not fuse to him as well. Twin had enough trouble managing both bodies, and he did not need a girl attached to his hands. 

The door behind him opened with a bang, and the uneven footfalls of the captain rang through the room. "Give her to me-uh." He sounded angry, and Bootstrap hastily did as commanded. As she was passed to Jones, he caught a glimpse of her face. Like Palifico, one eye had been replaced by tubers. The other had been replaced with a clam, though her eyeball sat inside instead of a pearl. Her mouth now held sharp, jagged teeth. Her top row of teeth were slightly longer than the rest, protruding over blue lips. Seaweed hung from under her eyes and covered what remained of her face.

She was a monster. 

-[|+[*]+[^%#%=+

Something didn't feel right, Cassandra knew that much. The warm glow she had been encompassed in did not seem as warm or golden as it had earlier. In fact, if she did not know better, she would think it was slowly turning black and cold. But that was not possible. She was locked inside her mind, and it was all in her control.

Then, a searing pain ripped through her consciousness, and she was sure that the glow faded significantly. Her vision blurred as light zoomed past and her eyes fluttered. 

Except only one eye was working, and it was rapidly fading as well. She struggled to keep it open, but apparently that was not the problem. The last thing she saw before everything descended into darkness was the top of the table crawling with maggots and crustaceans. She tried to jerk away, but found she could not move, much similar to the last time she had awoken.

Another jolt of pain turned the black a dark blood red, and inside her head she shrieked. It felt like her insides were being scrambled by a hand that was somehow inside her. Her heart raced, the blood pounding in her ears. Except, her ears were not working, and they did not feel like her ears anymore.

Then there was the pain on the outside of her, almost as if things were growing out of her skin. She tried to move, to make it stop, but nothing happened. Eventually, there was nothing except the pain. It was everywhere, and it followed her no matter how much her consciousness twitched away. Everything felt like it was being torn off of her, then replaced but in the wrong spot. Something that felt like a new limb was coming out of her back, tasting the cold air and sea salt for the first time with leathery skin.

Something picked her up, and whatever she was touching was softer than she expected. Then, she was passed to something significantly less inviting. Things scraped against whatever was attached to her back, making her very bones shudder in protest at the feeling. Something slimy slid against her face, brushing something equity as slimy away. And it was then that she regained her vision.

Her eye opened, and she could recognize that the other was not working. She could not tell what was wrong, but something felt off with the other eye as well. She was faced in the direction of a man with a starfish attached to the right side of his face and barnacles growing almost everywhere else. Of all the crew members, he seemed to retain most of his humanity, in terms of looks. Next to him stood Hadras, the one from before who had helped her the first time she had been punished. But who was holding her?

She strained to turn her head and look up, but found herself unable to. Instead, she stared at the starfish man,who was looking down at either the floor of his own boots. Her eye shifted to Hadras, who was holding his head in his hands, an uncertain look on the part of his face she could see.

What felt like water suddenly flowed out of her ears, and she was able to hear again.

"By the powers she looks worse than Palifico-uh!" She knew that voice. "What did ye two bilge rats do to her-uh?" The two men shook their heads.

"Not us, captain, she started changin' when we got here," the one with the starfish said.

"At this rate? Lies-uh."

"I went to get ye when it started," Hadras protested.

"Than who di- Calypso." Jones interrupted his own sentence with the answer. "The jealous wench!"

Calypso had cursed her? How could that be so? She was bound in human form, off wandering the earth somewhere, powerless. And why would she be jealous of her? She was hardly a threat to a heathen god. Had she somehow sences that her thoughts of the good captain had changed? Not possible.

"Not possible..." Her mouth erupted into pain as she spoke, her voice gritty from shrieking. Jones merely dropped her in surprise. 

"Ye finally are able to use your voice again-uh, convenient-uh. Aye, it be Calypso that cursed ye."

"She... She..." Cassandra couldn't seem to get the words out of her mouth, so she settled for strings of simple words. "She.. Move on... Crew... Kill me." She would imagine that if Jones was not rid of her, the goddess would use the crew to gain his attention. Then, after a while, Jones would cast her overboard. If he even waited in the first place. She knew he had been eating to be rid of her since her purpose had been lost.

She tried once again to turn her head to look at the man who held her. With a series of cracks, and quite a deal of pain, she accomplished it. He stared down at her, his hat casting his eyes into shadow. "Kill... Me..."

"Ye two-uh! Leave!" Starfish and Hadras left quickly, leaving her alone with the captain. "I... Don't want to-uh."

She flared at him, or at least tried. "I... Bring... Bad... For... Crew."

"Ye'll owe me a debt-uh," he informed her, giving her a sidelong look.

"Kill... Me," she insisted again.

He sighed and walked over to the table where he set her down. She lay there stiffly, then twitched violently in pain. "Hurry." The word left her deformed mouth in a hiss, barely understandable.

"Miss... I don't remember yer name... I release ye from yer debt of servitude aboard the Flying Dutchman." She twitched again, and he drew his sword. Looking down at what once was a girl and now was a monster, he stabbed down where he believed her heart might be buried under layers of coral. The blade sunk through her and pierced her heart. She twitched once more before using the remainder of her strength to yank him down to her. Their mouthed brushed slightly, which caught the captain by surprise. Before he could ask what she was doing, her grip loosened and she fell back to the table with a thump.

She had kissed him. The lass had kissed him. He shook his tentacled head and stared down at her still form. Black blood seeped from the would he had just inflicted on her.

He had killed her, and she had kissed him. It seemed he couldn't understand it in the least. She loved Sparrow! He had not caught her kissing the rest of the crew... The again he had never let her see the rest of the crew.

Just then, Maccus burst into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but there's a ship in sight." 

Once again, he shook his great head, then scooped up what remained of the lass. "To the locker with this one." He was not sending her there for punishment, but because he could, once finished with this ship, retrieve her once more.

Her dead body was thrust into Maccus' arms and he shoved his way out of the galley.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack was sure the Locker was messing with him again.

There was no way that Cass - his Cass, as he had started to think of her - was in the Locker of Davy Jones. She was of board the Dutchman, albeit not safely. He wouldn't blame her if she was cursing his name for not attempting to save her. He would do the same, should anyone leave him on that godforsaken vessel. The torment that the crew endured, the quality of life, or semilife, and the fearsome captain always dealing out lashings, that was not the life for him. And he most certainly did not have the face for tentacles. 

The girl who had mysteriously appeared on the Pearl next to him claimed to be Cass. She did not look like Cass. She did not sound like Cass. He was in the Locker. Therefore, it could not possibly be Cass. The life form next to him was something out of a children's horror story, covered in parts of the sea so much so that they had become a monster. Whoever it was could hardly be considered human anymore.

"Yer not Cass," he said, scrunching up his nose. "Cass is human. You, mate, are not."

The thing cringed. "Working aboard the Dutchman and earning Calypso's wrath will do this to a person."

"And I suppose ye will say next that ye don't love no more, and have had her heart beaten outa ya," he said sarcastically, but watched as it's shoulders sagged a bit. "Ha! Cass possesses a heart, she does. Therefore, ye are not Cass!" He swaggered away to find some rum, leaving the monstrosity to get off his ship by their onesies. And yet the thing followed him.

"Ask me a question only Cass would know. I can prove I am she," it said confidently. Suddenly, a muscle fell from her arm, showing a bit of skin. Jack stared at it, confused. It looked a bit like her skin, but it had a slimy look to it that most definitely was not natural.

"Alright, then. What did I tell ye on the second day we met? Up in the crow's nest?" 

It did not even hesitate. "That not every pirate could say they been raped and got over it," it said confidently.

"Ah ha!" He pointed at her. "If you were trying to impersonate her, ye would know that!"

It shook it's head, then fell to the deck as the piece of coral replacing it's leg fell off and clattered to the floor next to it. Then, another tree muscles fell off it's person. Hastily, Jack backed away, repulsed by the thing. He had seen a great deal of unusual things in his lifetime, but this was probably the most ugly. Poor Cass had to be impersonated by this bloody nuisance, and while on the bloody Dutchman! The thing's leg started growing back, starting first as that of a baby to one that looked feminine.

"Where did you get that sword," he asked. This might not be the Cass he knew, but the locker could be showing him what she looked like in the present...

"I used it to kill the man who started this whole bloody mess. It was his before that. Or rather, I wounded him and left him to die. None can save a stomach wound." Even Jack did not know that part. He remembered sending her off to get a weapon, and he remembered her chasing after the Pearl while he had left her behind. He had never asked her quarry, nor how she came by such a thing.

"And where be it now?" 

"Shattered. Somewhere aboard the Dutchman. Jones snapped it the day I was brought aboard."

"Ye really are Cass, or at least a vision o' 'er," Jack said slowly.

The thing looked as if it were trying to give him an exasperated look, but with that strange clam eye and those worm-things... He shuddered just to think about it. Could she even see anything? With a wet plopping noise, something dropped to the floor again, and he saw it was the eyeball that had been in the clam. Without knowing it, he shrank back from it, as if it were the Kracken come back to eat him again.

The Cass-thing also fell once again, her mouth open in a scream. No noise came from her deformed mouth, but there was a stricken look in her face that he could not mistake. Back on the deck, she curled in on herself, much as she had on the day he met her, and he fought the urge to back away from her entirely. That was it, wasn't it? The catch? When she was hurt, Cass cried and needed another to save her, and this illusion was not crying. In fact, they were picking themselves up, something decidedly un-Casslike. But then again, he had thought about her a great deal while she was gone, wondering what she would be doing if she were free. Though he would not admit it, he had created an inaccurate version of Cass in his mind, one that she would refuse to life up to, what with her newfound strength and all.

"Ye are an illusion, an' don' pretend any different," he said defiantly and walked off away from the deformed-thing-that-might-be-Cass.

/

Back on the Dutchman, Hadras was doing his best to badger the captain without being sent to Jimmylegs. The only thing that compared to a lashing from the bo' sun was one from the captain, and that was simply because he had so much brute strength. Jimmylegs, however, knew right where to hit and would have a man staggering about in pain for a few days or so.

So far all that had happened was he had ben shoved out of the way every time he asked about the lass. He had seen Maccus carrying her out of the galley, a sword protruding from her chest. Even covered in stuff sea things, she managed to look limp. It did not take a nobleman to see she was dead. What he wanted to know was why.

He could not consider her a friend, as she hardly knew him and he hardly knew her. He had just done the kind thing and helped her fix herself up that one time, just as Bootstrap had done for him on his first night. Everyone on the ship had someone who looked out for them, in a matter of speaking. They had someone they considered a friend, or at least a mate they could stand to talk to. This little lass? They laughed at her, made bets behind her back, and told tales of what all they would do to her if the captain would "jus' lemme 'ave 'er." They even called her Crylass because she had cried when she had first been seen by them all.

He felt she at least needed someone to defend her memory on this godforsaken ship. She had done nothing to deserve this life after all, having been yanked from her home ship to use in a ploy to retrieve one Jack Sparrow. And yet, it had not worked, and she was still left to live a hundred years more breaking her back doing tasks one so small as she could not manage. She was a woman! She could not do such things.

"Captain, why be the lass dead?" This time he had such up behind the great tentacled man while he was at the helm. They were sailing along under the waves, so when he turned to glare at him his beard floated wildly around his face, and to a frightening effect as well.

"Ye bloody nag-uh! Get back to work-uh!" He then turned back to his own work, and stared almost blankly out at the ocean around them. They were on their way to the ship Maccus had seen earlier and were all looking forward to a new group of men to frighten out of their breeches.

Hadras did not move. Rarely had the captain not dealt out a punishment for annoying him. The shell-headed man tried his luck again, walking the line between danger and safety with wobbly drunken legs. The captain seemed to sense this, and looked over one barnacled shoulder at him for a split second. "She died-uh because she asked to-uh."

'Helpful,' Hadras thought before trying again. "But why?"

"Calypso," Jones shook his head angrily, eyes fiery with anger, "be a jealous wench-uh, an' cursed 'er. She feared-uh tha' if she were not removed-uh, the crew would suffah." His accent was heavier than usual, and he took that as a sign that his patience would not last much longer.

"Get Greenbeard up 'ere-uh," he growled before giving the wheel a ferocious turn. Hadras quickly ran off, quite surprised that Jones was showing a rare bit of mercy. And now he knew what had happened, or at least enough to figure the ret out himself.

/

The sounds of the organ being played provided a background as Hadras explained what had happened to the only female member of the crew. "She though' tha' by 'er death, she coulda saved us from 'er curse. Captain says 'twas placed by Claypso!" At the last word, he wiggled his fingers at the rest of them gathered around. "Then, she ask him to kill 'er, save the suffering o' the crew and him. An' he did! Right through 'er heart!"

Koliniko shuffled his clunky feet. He had been the first to call her Crylass, and now to find she had died to spare them all suffering... "Wait a minute. Ought to at leas' give 'er a word for 'er passin'." He hurried down to his hammock in the crew's quarters where he pulled a small leather book he had picked from a doomed sea dog a little while back. He had hoped to teach himself to read, but had no luck. Bootstrap had called it a bible, he thought, and, not being a holy man himself, knew nothing about that sort of faith-business. But they were read at funerals, so it had to count for something.

When he returned, Jimmylegs was walking out, an annoyed look on his ugly face. Koliniko hastily hid the small book under his jerkin and tried to walk casually so as to avoid a whipping. Jimmylegs just scowled at him as he passed, and the spines on his face puffed out a bit , and he tried unsuccessfully to make them go down again.

"Anyone can read?" he asked, sitting back down. Most of them grunted a no, but surprisingly Palifico nodded an affirmative. Koliniko handed him the bible, and the rest of them waited in silence as he flipped though the passages for an appropriate one.

Finally, he settled on one most of the way thought the sodden pages. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." He closed the book with a thump and let the room be silent for a moment. "We were not her friends."

"Aye," the great majority of those gathered said sadly. 

"She still be dead," Koliniko said. The organ music suddenly grew in volume until it blasted through their ears before becoming silent. "And the captain still be great with his timing. Scram!"


	13. Chapter 13

Cassandra understood that she was a monster now. She also knew her body was rejecting the change, now that she was not employed on the Dutchman. The last thing she was sure of was that, even though she was supposed to be dead, she was still in pain.

Somehow Jack was also here, pretending she did not exist. She was growing more and more sure all the rum drinking he had been doing had addled his brain, and now he was simply going mad. Or maybe this was the 'paradise' all those religious sort spoke of constantly. To her it seemed more like hell. Her friend could hardly stand to look at her, and was convinced she was not real. He was also convinced she was somehow an illusion brought on by the Locker.

Was that where she was? In the Locker? She could guess that after what she did, Jones would want her to feel his wrath, even in death. She had kissed the man who loved a goddess, the man who despised love. And despised her, for that matter. What had she been thinking?

She hadn't been, that was sure.

Another issue that bothered her was why she in particular had been targeted by the great sea goddess. Jones had said that she was simply jealous, but jealous of what? She was hardly anything at all. Was it because she was a female on the ship, and she thought that would be far too much temptation for the cursed crew? That was probably it. Jones positively hated her,as could be proven by her apparent location.

She wanted to cry, but every bit if her new mindset kept her tears at bay. She was strong now, not some little lass who could do nothing for herself. 'Look at me! I survived the Dutchman!' If survived meant being able to think about it afterwards, then she really had done the impossible.

She sat up on the floor, shaking her head as another cluster of barnacled and muscles fell from her back. As more and more fell, the raw skin became more and more irritated and stung like nothing else did. Despite that, she raised herself on wobbly legs, bracing her arm against the mast until she stood in the windless place.

Taking one step, her new leg buckled slightly, and she shifted all her weight to the other limb before she could fall. Determined, she pressed on, one foot in front of the other until she reached the railing, where she latched onto the rope and glanced over the edge of the ship. There was no landscape, no color, no wind, no... Anything. There was the Pearl, and there was the strange white ground. Jack was on said ground, waving his arms at something behind her. She looked behind her to see... Nothing. The ship was empty aside from her, which was both eery and peaceful at the same time.

Deciding to keep moving and strengthen her leg, so if she ever could leave, she could leave on her own two feet. As she walked across the deck again, she stopped to pick up the long piece of coral that had once replaced her leg. It was a dull red in color, with little circles at random intervals all around it. She scowled at it, as if it had personally offended her, which in a way, it had. Then, she swung it about like a sword, as she had seen Jack do while teaching her the basics of sword fighting.

She circled the mast seven times before she felt ready to not have her arms spread to either side of her to stabilize I her. After that, she began walking in wider circles. Though she still had a slight limp, she assumed she would eventually overcome it. And so what of she didn't? She was a pirate now, and pirates were not ridiculed for having a limp.

Cassandra had once thought she would immediately become a great captain of a ship, or at least have the path to greatness paved for her. She thought she would be glorious, victorious, and infamous. It was all ashes around her, the real idea of what piracy was having taken it's place in vivid color. A pirate must be strong and not afraid to hurt those who got in their way or disobeyed them. They must know how to fight and hold their own, and not be frightened in the heat of the battle. They must know how to handle a ship, how to keep a crew in check, how to fire a cannon. And they must know how to escape, even when it is impossible.

"Oi! Cass!" Jack appeared on the railing, looking at her. "I've been trying to get yer attention for some amount o' time now!"

She ignored him, still deep in thought. How could she escape this? Could they simply walk out and be done with it? Had Jack already scouted about the area? She turned around, only to come face to face with said pirate captain. "Jack!" She kept back, caught by surprise.

"I though' I told ye to leave, mate," he said a somewhat annoyed voice. "Can't ye see I got myself a woefully ignorant crew to deal with, without the hassle of ye? Shoo, shoo," he said, making 'get along' motions with his hands.

"What crew are you speakin' of? I see not a soul 'sides the two of us," she replied dryly.

"How would ye know? Ye don't really exist."

"I do so exist!" Cass was exasperated by his lack of understanding. She was here right alongside him, and if anything, he was the one not really here. "Jones sent me here after I kissed him!" Her eyes went wide, and she clapped a leech-fingered hand over her mouth.

"Now that is somethin' I know Cass wouldn't do. Q.E.D., ye aren't really Cass. The Cass I know would ne'er love tha' slimy git."

She was so shocked that her hand fell from her mouth and her jaw dropped. "Who are you to tell me who I can and cannot love? Besides, haven't you been listening? I don't have it in me to love again!" The nerve of that man... Well, he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and he did have a reputation back in Tortuga...

"I, love, am Captain-"

"Jack Sparrow-face. I know."

"No, no that's not it at all," he said quietly to himself, as if unaware that she could still hear him. A clam of some sort fell from her shoulder, and she caught it deftly before it hit the ground. She had been making a trail of sea life seeded from her person, and kicked a few other shells closer, before pelting the clam at Jack. It hit him in the chest, while she had been aiming for his head. Cassandra picked up another and another, throwing them at Jack despite how many times she missed. He covered his face with his arms and leaned over so anything that met it's target hit his side instead. "Stopit! Stopit!"

Cackling, she reached down to discover she had exhausted her pile of things to throw at her friend. She then turned to her shoulder, yanking things off at random and throwing them as well at Jack. Eventually, he found an opening and tossed a small lobster at her, and it hit her square in the face, knocking off a large shell covering half her face. This she threw like a discus, but it sailed far over his head and landed with a clatter on the white ground bellow them.

Cassandra grabbed a particularly big muscle stuck to her arm and pulled, but it was firmly stuck to her flesh. While she worked at pulling it off, Jack scored four more hits, making her scream in rage. The sound took him aback, as he had never heard another human being make such a noise. It came from deep inside her and echoed pain and rage to the empty place around.

Finally the muscle was yanked free, leaving a raw but if flesh exposed where it had been. She took a minute to admire it, as she had missed her old flesh before it was cursed. It was amazing, really, what one is thankful for when they loose something they never thought to be grateful for before. Shrugging, she returned to throwing old parts of herself at Jack. The muscle hit him square in the jaw, and it was hard to tell who that surprised more.

"That's it," Jack bellowed, drawing his sword. Cassandra yelped and ran for where his cabin was, hoping to find a spare sword in there somewhere. Jack was on her heels, and she stumbled a bit but finally yanked open the door and slammed it in his face. She sank to the floor just as he thrust his sword through the door. She yelped and heard him laugh before she jumped away from the door and grabbed a sword that was sitting on the papers on his desk. He was still trying to retrieve his weapon when she burst thought the door once again, using his shoulders to hoist herself over his head and land behind him before running to the ropes that would lead to the crow's nest. She climbed as fast as she could, hauling with all the strength in her arms and legs combined. She was pretty sure Jack was not trying to kill her, but to have the higher ground would be wise in case he was.

She yelped as a hand closed around her ankle and yanked her down the ropes and back to the deck, where she landed on her back in time to see Jack lunge at her with his sword raised, and on instinct, as she had learned from him, thrust her own weapon in front of her to block his strike, though it came inches from her nose. "If ye prefer to be on top," he grinned down at her, and she smirked back before kicking up with her feet and sending him off of her, glut hong his gut. She knew she was not strong enough to hurt him badly, but just enough to throw him off. Using one of his own moves, she cut a rope so that it dangled from the mast, and used it to swing about, one foot looped in the rope so she could use one arm to block any potential blows. Happily, she filled her lungs and let out a battle cry of exhilaration. Jack tracked her, and when she needed him, he slashed with his sword right above where her hands gripped and she came tumbling down, though this time she landed in a roll, coming up back to back with him.

"Ye been learnin' to fight, mate? Not bad," he joked, watching her from over his shoulder.

"Learned from a pirate," she grinned back at him before twisting and attempting a downward strike. Jack seemed to have the same move planned, but at the last minute reversed his grip and threw her sword from her hands. Instinctively, she dropped and attempted to sweep his feet from under him, which he easily avoided. Cassandra rolled to her feet once again, this time making a bolt for the opposite direction from where Jack was. It happened to be the stairs that led up to the helm. Jack easily beat her, but she hastily blocked his blow. The point of his sword skimmed the side of her face, taking a large chunk of seaweed off her face with it's passing. Growling, she lunged at him, only to be beaten back again by a side strike she hardly saw coming. She was by far the inferior swordsman, and the two of them knew it.

Jack had told her that when outmatched, which was almost always, she must use her wit to ensure she survived. At the moment her wit was telling her she needed to use her smaller form to her advantage and find some obstacles he would have a hard time avoiding, or at least make it to the crow's nest. But before she could dart out of the way, she found cold steal at her throat.

"Better than I remember, " Jack said, grinning down at her, "but ye'll need to be better than that to escape-"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," she interrupted him, knowing what he would say before he said it.

"I was actually going ta say 'me,' but that works just as well." She grinned, and as she did, her top row of teeth fell out and clattered to the deck. They both looked down at them before Cassandra burst out laughing.

"At least I can speak better now," she said, and for the first time since her appearance could he fully understand her.

"What say ye and I do this every... Day? Eh, whenever we want, aye?" There really was no passing of days in the barren white desert.

"Aye," Cassandra smiled at him. "Up for another go?"

\

It was all to easy for the Dutchman to rise out of the ocean and frighten the navy ship's crew out of their uniforms. By the time they were done with it, the ship was a smoldering pile of remains sinking to the depths, as well as a crew with a choice. With one look at the rest of the crew, all but one of the surviving four chose death and were promptly given their wish, their body flung overboard.

The last one had remained silent up until that point.

"Davy Jones?" His voice was full of fear, and rightly so. "Lord Beckett Cutler, er, sometimes also known as Lord Cutler Beckett, sends his regards, as well as a short message. He has your heart, and you have been ordered to make way to Port Royal immediately."

Jones was shocked. He knew he did not have his own heart. He had assumed that one of the crew of the Black Pearl had it hidden somewhere, but apparently it had fallen into the hands of the Navy...

"To the depths with this one as well-uh," he roared, and it was hastily done. He wished he could have drawn it out longer, made it more painful. Did this man know the pain he caused? Did the navy? This Bucket man? No, they did not. And he was sure that his own heart would now be used against him, just as before.

As they made way Jones thought to himself that he was glad the girl did not have to see this. She was safe, in the locker, where he might eventually see her again.

The great captain was loath to admit it, but he was starting to find he did in fact care for the girl. A bit. He sat down to play his organ, possibly for the last time. He would make it count, and it would not be Calypso's song he played this time. He would instead play whatever came to mind and enjoy the last moments of his freedom.

A single tear left his eye, and he let it fall.


	14. Chapter 14

James Norrington was back in Port Royal for the first time since the hurricane had destroyed his ship, crew, and life, in a matter if speaking. Yet now, he stood in the office of one Lord Beckett, carrying with him something the short man would find of much value. In exchange, he wanted the Letters of Marque, which were now sitting atop the large oaken desk at the front of the room.

Beckett made a gesture with his hand, and the guards released his arms and stepped away. "If you intend to claim these," he looked at the Letters, t"hen you must have something to triad. Do you have the compass?" Did he have Jack Sparrow's compass? To his knowledge, it was wherever the obnoxious pirate captain was.

No, he had something... "Better," he said as he strode closer, his raggedy old coat sticking to his wrist as he withdrew the bundle from his coat and dropped it with a think on the table. He wondered if the thing's owner could feel the impact, but decided not to think on it. He needed those letters, he needed his life back. And not only for him, but for Elizabeth. If he could somehow save her from the hangman's noose... "The heart of Davy Jones."

Beckett's face hardly showed any indication that the news was new, or even remarkable. He gingerly opened the sack and peered inside to see exactly what Norrington had put there: the still-beating heart of the most feared captain on the sea. "Remarkable," he said quietly, almost to himself.

A bit impatient, and quite excited, Norrington interrupted his musings. "I take it I've won commission as a privateer?"

"Oh I think... better." Beckett strode around his desk, and as he passed the long box at one end, opened it to reveal a sword that was achingly familiar to the other man. It was the same sword he had received in the day that he had first proposed to Elizabeth. The same sword that he had received the day the pirates took her. The one that signified his rank in the Navy. "Reinstatement to your former rank and status, all rights and privileges attended. And I believe a promotion is in order, don't you, admiral Norrington?" 

Beckett was up to something, that much was sure. Unease cut through his joy as Norrington watched the other man walk in the direction of the glass doors looking out on the harbor. He did not expect to be rewarded so lavishly, nor did he know the other man to ever do such a thing.

"Give the order, sir," Norrington said, a bit hollowly as he rested his newly reinstated sword on his arm so that it pointed down over the heart in the bag.

"Oh, no no no, it would be terribly imprudent. Where is the profit in killing Jones when we can instead add another ship to your fleet?" That was the second warning. Norrington almost wished he could take the heart back and run off, but knew he would not get farther than the door.

"The Flying Dutchman." Mercer, who had been standing just outside, called in, and Beckett walked outside, Norrington hurrying to catch up. Indeed, the great dark ship rose frighteningly out of the water, and from where he was, he could see the crew gathered behind their captain. Jones took his hat from his head, placing it where his heart might have been had it not been in the office behind Norrington.

"Whoever controls the heart of Davy Jones, controls the sea." Ah, so that was it. Beckett wanted the sea for his beloved East India Trading Company. The joy of his new rank faded quickly, and Norrington fought to keep the same look on his face. What had he done? This man who Beckett was now using had lost his freedom so that Pirates would be irradiated. In fact, if tales were correct, the man had not been free in a very long time. And now the seas were to be taken from all but the EITC and Navy? What of Elizabeth? What of the rest of the pirates who sailed those waters, looking for freedom?

Had he made the wrong choice?

"The map is finished, sir." Beckett's elderly assistant scuttled into the room, bowing as he did so. Beckett turned and left Norrington and Mercer watching the Dutchman as he strode back to look at the known world.

"Just the way I imagined it," he said, satisfied.


	15. Chapter 15

Cassandra had lost count of how long she had been in the locker with Jack. All that marked time passing were their sparring sessions, and lately those had been the only things she even remotely cared about. They kept her distracted from her thoughts, to which she was incredible grateful. Had she been allowed to think she did not know what would come about.

The seaweed on her face had turned crispy and dry, eventually flaking off and exposing more of her face. The leeches that had grown between her fingers had also shriveled up and fallen from her flesh, and most all the clams, barnacles, and shells were scattered on the deck of the Pearl.

While not sparring, she and Jack would sit, despite the fact that he believed she was not truly there. She knew she was, and that was enough for the moment. They would sit on the deck, sweaty and panting, and catch their breath before starting a conversation. He told her the truth behind some of the rumors she had heard of him, and she told him her tale aboard the Dutchman. Pointedly, she left out how she had come to understand the captain, even found it in her apparently empty chest to fester some feeling for the grim man. Jack did not have to know any of this, she reasoned.

On one particular occasion, he asked her about what she had said awhile ago, about kissing the captain. She was glad she was so sunburned that he could not tell that she was blushing a bit. She had hoped to avoid the topic, but it was clear that Jack had no intention of doing so.

"The curse had set in, and I knew the damned goddess would move on to the rest of the ship if I were not dealt with. So I asked hi to kill me, and he did, and I sort of kissed him."

He wrinkled his nose. "Mate, why the devil would ye do that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Lass, he hurt ye! Ripped yer good heart out of her breast and stomped it flat!"

"And you think Calypso did any different to him? Not physically, at least at first, but emotionally? Besides, he did not do this to me. Life did, and as you said, I got to grow from these experiences." Unexpectedly. Jack grabbed her hand in his own and pressed it to her own breast. She felt the dull thudding of her heart, buried beneath layers of muscle and bone.

"Ye aren't heartless like him, lass. Ye still have yer heart."

She felt the tears in her eyes, but fought them back. "Not in the physical sense, Jack. I will never love the same way you might. I might never long for the closeness of another human being. I might be a killer, and never have a quell about the sadness and pain I bring. I might never again look at a man and desire him. I am sorry, but I used to wear my heart on my sleeve. Now I don't. I am not sure where it is, even." Her gaze stayed on the dark wooden planking beneath where she sat.

"I know where it is," Jack said. Again, he surprised her by leaning over and planting a soft kiss on her lips. Her disgusting set of teeth had all fallen out and been replaced by normal, human teeth, aside from four, which were longer and sharper than normal. Now all that remained on her face were a few barnacles, as well as the tuber eye, which she kept covered in a strip of cloth. It was a soft kiss, not at all what she had been expecting. She did not draw him closer, but neither pushed him away either. She remained a statue, aside from the salty tears that gathered in her eye.

He drew back and cupped her roughened check in the palm of his hand. Before she knew what was happening, she had darted up and away, not knowing where she was going until she was halfway to the crow's nest. 

/

Jack watched her silently below before retreating to his cabin. He knew the girl had been through much, but he also knew that the vision with him was not real. How could she be? Cass was led by her heart, which was at once her greatest strength and her most fatal weakness.

But to become heartless altogether... That was not something he wanted to think about. What kind of pain would it take to make one loos their feelings of caring? Something monstrous and... Tentacled. Something that greatly resembled one Davy Jones.

Jack shook his head. The damned man did not know what he was getting himself into...

/

Davy Jones had no idea what he was getting himself into. He had tried to play the music box song, as he had begin calling it in order to a ovoid invoking Her name. And yet a different Her had taken Calypso's place, a girl that had visited his mind many a time in the past few days.

She was never the complete monstrosity she was last he saw her, but rather a mix of both human and beast, a bit like himself.

She had kissed him. That day he had killed her, she had kissed him. Did she love him? Him, the sea, the one they all feared? He was a monster, and he did not try to avoid that fact. He knew it, which was why there was not a shines object in sight in his own quarters. There was the organ, the old cot, and the music box. He was almost positive that he would chick the last thing overboard one of these days, simply to get it away from him.

But did she love him?

The look in her eyes showed her inability to love, much like his own. He would recognize the look anywhere, having seen it in his own eyes before he cut his heart out. And now the miserable beating thing was causing a war between pirates and the Navy. Had he been able to pick his side, he would have sided with the pirates, being one himself. That was not the reason, though. He would fight because these men thought to control him by his heart.

Had he ever really owned his heart? First Calypso took it, then these Navy dogs. And now... Figuratively it was changing hands rapidly. The lass who he had hurt so fiercely, whom he had killed, who had kissed him...

He could hardly wrap his mind around the last bit. Only the sea goddess had kissed him, and it all turned out to be a way for her to use him to go about and have her fun. At least he had the satisfaction of seeing her bound. Yet she had cursed the lass. Had she sensed something? That his heart was no longer hers anymore? She must have, though he did not know how.

Oh, how he wished to take a trip to the locker and retrieve the lass.

Did he love her? He did not know. He was not sure he even knew how to love anymore. He was a heartless wretch, after all. A part of him yearned for her fiercely, wishing to simply hold her and ask for her forgiveness. It was his fault that her back was raw. It was his fault that she had turned into a monster.

And now he wanted to fix it, but could not.

He wanted the damned lass back.


	16. Chapter 16

Cass had been avoiding him for what might have been an hour, a day, or a year, depending on how time flowed in this horrid place. Either way, she had not come down from the crow's nest since she had first scampered up there, and Jack was beginning to worry. Was being kissed by him such a bad thing? No one had ever complained before. He shrugged, not sure weather or not to check on her or not. What would she do to him if he did? Throw a shell at him? He had been shot, eaten, and wounded, and yet here he was. Besides, she would probably be expecting him to come to her, and was disappointed that he hadn't yet. 

That settled it. He would go up to her.

As he climbed the net, he felt the ship rock slightly. Dismissing it as the swinging of the rope, he continued past the first sail, then the second and third until he reached the wooden bucket-like area. There she sat, looking dismal. Her face was dry, and the strange dark fin that her hair had turned into covered half of it. When he swung a leg over the railing, she looked up sharply, and expression he did not expect to be on her face causing her top lip to lift in a scowl and her eye to narrow. Jack had one second to say "bugger," before she was on her feet, sword drawn and pointed at his throat. All that saved him was when the ship gave a mighty jolt, and she was thrown off balance, tumbling to the left. She was disorientated long enough for him to begin climbing back down the ropes, but she quickly followed, her gleaming weapon clenched in her mouth to leave her hands free.

Her rage seemed to quicken her pace, and she was nearly on him by the time he made it to the deck. He drew his sword quickly enough to block her first attack as she jumped from the ropes and landed in front of him, sword caught by his own. She kicked for his legs, foot grazing his kneecap enough that he leapt back, releasing her own blade so it swung down once again. This she counted by readjusting her grip and lunging again, this time with the element of surprise lost.

"Love, what are ye-" Jack was interrupted by another attack, which he easily parried. He had no trouble keeping up with her , but she was moving faster than he had ever seen her move before, the rage filing her bloodshot eyes fueling the strength behind the blade. The ship jolted again, and they were both knocked off their feet. Cass landed in a clumsy roll while Jack fell onto his back. A split second later, Cass was on her feet, and he was still rolling over, trying to get up.

"Do not ever do that again!" She stood overtop him, seething. Jack crawled backwards, a bit startled that she was so ready to fight. She looked a bit frightening with her elongated teeth bared. He had no idea if she were seriously going to try to kill him here or not, but he kicked her legs out from under her anyway. She fell onto her rear end, sliding towards the helm as the ship once again moved. Jack shot up and began climbing the ropes. Cass was a few seconds behind him, more than enough time for him to get out of range of her blade. He heard her shriek a war cry, something that made him cringe. It seemed she knew this as well, as she did it again. It sounded like a dying man, slowly loosing his lifeblood and knowing there was no salvation for him. There was pain in that scream, as well as frustration, anger, and something akin to sadness. The girl began ferociously climbing the ropes behind him, and he hastily hoisted himself up over the spar, avoiding the rigging holding the sails up. The ship jostled again, and he hastily grasped for the rigging before making his was to the opposite end of the beam. Then Cass was there, hauling herself up as well, sword once again clenched in her jaw.

Jack had half an urge to make her fall. The chance passed as she struck at him, one hand grasping the rigging that he too had held just a second ago. "Love! What are you doing?"

"Fighting you, obviously!" The ship tilted to one side for a moment, but that did not stop her from striking out, even as she dangled by one arm from the rigging. "You kissed me!"

"Ye kissed the fish face! Clearly you don't really care who it is you put your mouth on..." It was the wrong thing to say. If it was possible for her to grow any angrier, she did so.

"Are you implying-"

"Yes, that is what I am bloody well implying!" His second mistake, though he did not realize it. She kissed the slimy git, which was bad enough, but why was his kissing her any worse? He would have preferred himself to a jones any day... Was it possible that her old tendencies as a whore were seeping back into her personality?

"I-"

"Ye kissed Jones!"

"And that is none of your bloody business! Me life is me own!" Their swords clashed, each using all of their strength to try to push the other's weapon down and away. Jack was superior in strength, and after a short struggle, Cass was forced to retreat some. Her feet shuffled backwards as she gave ground, and a strange wind whipped her fin into her face. She swatted it back, only to find Jack's sword brushing her neck. 

"But it be up to me to make sure ye keep her life, love," he said angrily.

"What is it to ye anyway?" She growled as she once again blocked his blade with her own, inches from her face. Grabbing the rigging in a sweaty hand, she swung herself behind her opponent and gained ground back, as she had been needing the end of the spar and had no wish to be the one to plummet to the deck. Jack pivoted and swiped the air where she had been a minute before, but she was already in a crouch. She stood upright again, but ducked hastily as he repeated the move. She was not as quick that time, and the tip of the blade caught her right below the eye. Blood started to trickle down her face, but not enough to worry her.

Jack grimaced. "I want ye for meself, aye?"

She took a step closer, their blades crossing between them. "And if I not be wanting to be yours?"

He smirked. "Then I try harder. I am-"

"It's the captain!" Someone below them was shouting, though Jack was sure that they were alone in this godforsaken place. He looked away from Cass and down to... The sea? Yes, the sea! The Pearl was floating in the sea once more. This awful nightmare was about to end. Or was this just another illusion created by the locker?

He clambered down the ropes quickly, then swung on a rope to reach the white ground that was slowly getting out of reach. Behind him, Cass was doing the same, and her feet hit the rocky ground a second before his did. The last of the Pearl slid into the water behind them, as well as whatever had been pushing the great ship in the first place. There was a small crowd of people standing on the beach, most of which he recognized. Cass sidled up behind him to join them, sheathing her sword as she went. He thought he heard her mutter something along the lines of 'hide the rum' to Elizabeth, to which the other woman smiled slightly. 

He payed them no mind, instead walking over to his first mate. "Mister Gibbs?" His voice was angry. They were all an illusion! He was never getting out of this wretched place!

"Aye, cap'n?" 

"Thought so." They were an illusion, alright.

"I expect you will be able to account for your actions, then." His voice was quickly growing in volume with every word, his anger becoming imminent. They were not here to save him. He was alone, speaking to the cruel tricks of Jones.

"Sir?" Gibbs looked confused.

"There's been a perpetual and virulent lack of discipline upon my vessel. Why?" 

"You're in Davy Jones' Locker, cap'n," the first mate said weakly.

"I know that. I know where I am. And don't think I don't!" He knew all to well, did he not? He also knew where this lot was not at...

"Jack Sparrow." He would have recognized that voice anywhere.

"Hector! It's been too long."

His old first mate gave him a strange look. "Aye. Isla De Muerta. Ye shot me."

Jack returned the look. "No I didn't." He moved on down the line, until he came face to face with Cass. "Already know you are here," and then, to the woman next to her, "Tia Dalma, out and about, eh? You add an agreeable sense  
of the macabre to any delirium." Cass shook her head, and Tia Dalma smiled slowly.

"He thinks we are an illusion," Will said from farther down the line.

"Ye think," Cass muttered to herself.

Tia Dalma glared menacingly at her, but she did not notice.

"William, tell me something: Have you come because you need my help to save a certain distressing damsel, or rather, damsel in distress? Either one." Elizabeth shook her head.

"No," said Will.

"Well, then, you wouldn't be here, would you? So you can't be here. Q.E.D., you're not really here!"

"Jack," Elizabeth walked up behind him, and he cringed away as she put a hand on his shoulder. "This is real. We're here." He shook her off and sidled back over to Gibbs.

"The Locker, you say?" 

"Aye." Had everything that had happened between he and Cass been real? Had she really died and been sent here? It was all answered in Gibbs' answer. 'Aye,' he said. 'Aye, Cass had died a monster. Aye, everything she had said might be true. Aye, he was in the Locker.'

"We've come to rescue you." Elizabeth was back at his shoulder, and he really wished she would stop appearing there.

"Have you, now? That's very kind of you. But it would seem that as I possess a ship and you don't, you're the ones in need of rescuing, and I'm not sure as I'm in the mood."

"I see my ship, right there." Barbossa pointed at the Pearl, which was floating farther than Jack remembered it to be.

"Can't spot it. Must be a tiny little thing hiding somewhere behind the Pearl." He knew what the man meant, but was not about to give him the pleasure of admitting it. Besides. The Pearl was his. He had made the deal to have it raised from the sea. It was his soul in the bargain, not Barbossa's.

"Jack, Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones. He controls the Flying Dutchman." Will was now the one at his shoulder, and he wondered if Elizabeth and he got on with it and had a beat of their own if it would insist on standing by his shoulder at all times as well. He looked back at Cass to see her stiffen at Will's news. Was the part about her and Jones real as well?

"He's taking over the seas!" Elizabeth joined her fiancé and he had the urge to try to swat the two of them away.

"The song has been sung.The Brethren Court is called." Tia Dalma joined the Hang-On-Jack's-Shoulder club.

"Leave you alone for a minute, look what happens. Everything's gone to pot!"

"Aye. The world needs you back something fierce."

"And you need a crew." Yes he did. One that consisted of members not intent on mingling with his shoulder!

"And why would I sail with any if you? Four of you have tried to kill me in the past. One of you succeeded." Elizabeth cringed backward, to his amusement. "Oh, she's not told you. You'll have loads to talk about while you're here. As for you..." He glanced at Tia Dalma.

"Now... don't tell me you didn't enjoy it at the time..."

"Fair enough, you're in." He moved through the crowd, looking for those he wanted to take with him. "Don't need you. You scare me," he said to Pintel and Ragetti. "Gibbs, you can come. Marty. Mm... - Cotton. Cotton's parrot, I'm a little iffy, but at least I'll have someone to talk to. Who are you?" A group of unfamiliar men was also crowding about him.

"Tai Huang. These are my men."

"Where do your allegiances lie?"

"With the highest bidder."

He smirked. "I have a ship."

The sorter man smiled slightly. "That makes you the highest bidder."

"Good man. Weigh anchor, all hands. Prepare to make sail.Weigh anchor!" Those chosen began slogging towards the ship, and Jack began following them before someone called him back.

"Jaaaack. Jaaaack. Which way ye goin' Jaaaack?" Barbossa waved the charts in his face, and he glared at them angrily.

Everyone on the beach followed a very angry Jack to the Pearl, Tia Dalma doing her best to get in Cass' way the entire time, causing her to fall in the water a few times. "What is with her," Elizabeth asked. 

"If only I knew..." Cass sighed.


	17. Chapter 17

Another ship was destroyed, it's smoldering remains floating atop the waves along with the black flag that marked it a pirate ship. On a normal day, Jones would relish the sight. But today, he had quickly closed his telescope and stormed to his quarters. The damned navy ship, the one carrying Bucket and his rat-like accomplice, was sailing alongside the Dutchman, clearly also observing the remains as well.

Lately, he had been returning to his organ more and more often, even if he simply stared at the keys and thought of her. The lass who had been brought to his ship and was now in his Locker. She knew his song, knew his pain in her own way, and in turn, he understood her. She had become a monster because Calypso regarded her as a threat. He did not love Calypso. He had no heart, meaning he could love no longer. If he had love to give, it would never be for the sea goddess again. It would all be for the girl who had kissed him, though he looked the part of a monster. In truth, he was a monster when he thought about it, which he did not.

Was she not heartless as well now? She had come to him wounded, and he had harmed her all the more. Then she stopped her screaming, and her eyes changed. Yes, the transformation had destroyed them physically, but when she stopped wailing from the flogging, they had taken on a deep, sad look before seeming to turn to steel. They were nearly as cold as his own gaze, which he prided himself on.

So did he love her? In his own heartless way, yes he did. Would she ever know? He was stuck on this ship, not only by his own duties but by the bloody Royal Navy. He scowled and plopped down on the organ bench. The impact jarred the music box so it opened, and his tentacles slowly began to harmonies, playing only one note at a time. The song had started off as Calypso's song, but it no longer could be. No, it was hers now, most likely was from the minute she had breathed out the rhythm, trying to tell him she cared. If he had caught on at that point would it have changed anything? He might get a minute more with her, but that was it. Presently, even a minute would have been better than nothing.

The music box seemed to grow louder and louder, as if Calypso were trying to remind him of her. It was only his tentacles slipping from the keys as his sadness got the best if him. He picked it up, the memory of the girl's try at singing resurfacing in stunning clarity. A lone tear slid from his eye, and he picked it up with one tentacle, observing it for a moment before anger consumed him. She did not need him to cry for her. She needed him to come for her and bring her back to the land of the living. He hoped Sparrow had not found her.

Jones' thoughts were interrupted by footsteps boarding his ship, which only added to his anger. What did the bloody Navy want now? The rest of his organs? No, they had those as well simply by having him under their command. They had everything of his, save for the lass. Could he really consider her his though? Would she hate him for sending her to the Locker? He shook his great head and resolved not to think about that.

Quickly climbing the stairs, almost skipping a few of them, he pushed through his crew to where the bloody redcoats were standing all over his ship. Then, two more emerged carrying something between the two of them, something that resembled the chest.

It was the chest. "Go! All of you! And take that infernal thing-uh with you! I will not have it on my ship!" As of he needed another reminder of his enslavement. His own bloody ship had become a daily reminder that he could not banish from his mind.

"I'm sorry to hear that, because I will! It seems the only way to ensure that this ship do as directed by the company!" The short wig man stepped out from behind his men, his usual snide voice ringing through Jones' ears. He drew back slightly, and watched as the man gestured with his cane for the men carrying his chest to proceed... Into his cabin. They were going to keep the chest... In his cabin. His shoulders began shaking with rage. How dare they? "We need prisoners to interrogate, which tends to work best when they're alive." The bloody man was still talking, though Jones wished for nothing more at that moment than to run him through with a blade and toss him overboard, where he would be consumed by the waves. Not a sword through the heart, obviously. That would not take long enough. No, a sword though the thigh or stomach ought to cause enough pain before he was crushed by the sea. It was the death a man like him deserved. Then straight to the Locker with he and his wig, where they could be tormented for all eternity by whatever they feared and hated most. Crinkles, maybe. Or pirates.

"The Dutchman sails as it's captain commands," Jones replied angrily. It was his last attempt at fighting back, and he would not be able to be free to command his ship after this point. Then again, had he ever been free?

"And it's captain will sail as commanded. I would have thought you would have learned this when I ordered you to kill your pet." Another painful memory, this time of the giant cephalopod that he had cared for. It did his work and sunk ships, terrifying the crew and destroying their lives. "This is no longer your world, Jones. The immaterial has become... Immaterial." What the bloody hell was 'immaterial' anyway, and how could it at once be immaterial and then become immaterial again? He truly had a bucket in black of his brain. Or maybe a second wig stored in the empty space. When Jones bashed his head in, he would find out.

But for now, he would not go back in his cabin. Not with his heart there.

"Trim that sail. Slack windward brace and sheet!" Cass was aboard the Pearl, though at the moment wished she could leave the deck. She, however, wanted to prove herself a worthy seaman, which would not come about from sitting idly in the crow's nest. So she stood there, watching as Jack and Barbossa quarreled over who got command of the ship. Or rather, they gave orders and attempted to outdo each other.

"Haul the pennant line!" The second Barbossa finished his order, Jack repeated it, attempting to be the louder of the two. Cass rolled her eyes at his antics, and wished he would just shut up already and get them out of here. The Navy had Jones' heart, and she would be with him to fight to get it back.

Did she love him? To her ability, yes she did. She would fight for him, though how much worth an untrained lass would do against the Navy would be was in question. But she ignored that fact.

"What arrrrrre ye doing?"

"What are you doing?"

"No, what arrrrrrre ye doing?"

"What are you doing?"

"No, what are you doing?"

"You arrrrre both making fools out of yerselves, that's what you are doing," Cass mocked and attempted to imitate the two of them. Neither spared her a glance, though Jack seemed to scowl a bit more.

"What are you? Captain gives orders on the ship."

"The captain of the ship is giving orders!"

"My ship, makes me captain."

"They be my charts."

"That makes you 'chartman.'" She had to laugh at the made up term, but it seemed every time she made a sound, Tia Dalma sent a scathing glare her way.

"Stow it! The both of you! That's an order! Understand?!" The balding round one, Pintel, she thought, bellowed this order out, catching both arguing men by surprise. "Sorry. I just thought with the captain issue in doubt, I'd throw in my name for consideration. Sorry," he finished meekly.

"I'd vote for you," his friend Ragetti said.

"Yeah?"

"Me too," Cass agreed, coming up to stand by those two. She reckoned that almost anyone would be better than those two.

She looked around, observing the rest of the crew going about their business, aside from a certain couple who were clearly debating fervently about something. Cass has half a mind to eavesdrop, but Elizabeth was the closest thing she had to a friend presently. Jack was avoiding her, though it had only been a few minutes since they had begun sailing, that fact was eminent from how he strode about the ship.

Instead of hanging around any longer, she began to climb the ropes to the crows nest where she might get some thinking done. Most importantly, what would she do about Jones? And about the Navy? If it was true that the brethren court was gathering to fight the common enemy, then there would be a battle. One in which she might not come out alive.

She glanced over the railing and down to the helm where Barbossa had opened his telescope. Jack, watching him, tried to do the same, though his telescope was much smaller. He pulled at it, as if trying to make it stretch before giving up and walking away. When she turned back, Tia Dalma was standing directly in front of her.

Tia Dalma knew who the girl was. It was easy to see the affects her curse had on her, though she was a bit disappointed in how they had faded. However, she was satisfied to see the red irritated skin poking through holes in the shirt she wore, proving that she had ripped many a thing off her person.

She had been taking a risk, leading the Pearl's crew to the Locker. She thought that Jones would have simply killed her and been done with it, so she would have nothing to worry about in returning witty Jack to the world of the living. A part of her had doubted that, somehow knowing that he would not be eager to give up something that he had claimed. That thought alone made her seethe with jealous anger. Jones was hers, not this stupid child. Of course, she wanted his love on her own schedule, and only to suit her purposes. And yet, who was this brat to come and take what was rightfully hers?

She scowled as she watched the girl climb up to the crow's nest. She seemed to know the ropes, and she must have spent time there quite often. Maybe she would just follow her and give her a talking to about not taking things that belong to others.

From what she had seen, this girl would not go down without fighting. But what was a puny little human such as she was against a goddess? A bound goddess, but a goddess nonetheless. Nothing, that was what. She might even be merciful and give her a short death.

Wishing she did not have to do the menial work of climbing, she followed the girl, arriving to see her looking over the edge at the others. She stood there, glowering and waited for her to turn around once more so she could see the frightened look on the girl's face. And yet there was none. She did not look frightened nor surprised to see the goddess standing behind her. She almost seemed to have been expecting it.

"Tia Dalma. Do you need something?" It was almost as if she were disrespecting her on purpose, not knowing who she was.

"What do you thing you're doing, giving you heart to Davy Jones? Don't you know, she who love him be free soon and return for him, and he leave you for her?"

The girl shook her head. "She did not love him. She used him." She said it as if it were a fact, not simply how she thought about it. Did she know nothing if goddesses? They did as they pleased, loved when they wanted to and left when they did.

"I did not use him!" Tia Dalma's voice was filled with anger, and the quiet tone of it made her seem all the more dangerous.

She drew back, almost falling off the railing. "You." Her voice was equity as angry, knowing that the woman before her was Calypso. She shook her head in disbelief. "You hurt him. You cursed me. And now... I cannot even look at you." She deftly swung over the rail, dangling by her hands a moment before her feet touched the spar and she dropped.

'The wench would pay dearly,' Calypso thought before climbing down as well. She could not curse her again, not without her powers, which were limited by the Locker and her own exhaustion. When she was free, though... The wench would know no end to her fury.


	18. Chapter 18

With nothing more to do besides antagonize the goddess, stand about doing nothing, or find something else to do, Cass chose the first by swinging around her on a rope as her target stood watching the sea. It had been hours since she had discovered Tia Dalma's identity as the sea goddess she so despised, and the sky was now dark and littered with stars. The deck was only illuminated by the yellow glow of the lanterns hanging from various locations about the ship. Class's swinging made the light flicker in the goddess' peripheral vision, making her look up from the railing where she stood, staring out to sea. Every time she looked over her shoulder to see Cass swinging in circles around her, she growled and looked back to sea, wishing sourly that she could turn the girl into a crab and be done with it.

Cass, however, was grinning at the angered look on Calypso's face as she realized she could do nothing. She was quite glad of this, as she did not particularly want to return to the Locker, nor did she want to be cursed again. All that remained from her past experience with the curses the goddess threw at her was her hair, or rather fin, the barnacles on her shirt and breeches, and the scars from where she had ripped things from herself. Her fingers still looked a bit rubbery and bendable, much like the leech's bodies had been, yet there was definitely bone and human flesh in their place.

As Cass swung a bit too close to the goddess, Calypso grabbed the sword from its place at Cass's hip and slashed right above where her hands grasped the rope, causing her to tumble to the deck, hitting her head on the railing. Cass quickly sat up, rubbing her injured head. The goddess had enough time to look satisfied before she was on her feet again, and the sword was kicked from her hand to clatter to the deck. She was about to pick it up and attempt murder when she noticed something in the water. Apparently, Ragetti also noticed.

"Eerie." The rest of the crew was below, but were slowly trickling back on deck, possibly having heard Cass thud to the ground and attack Tia Dalma.

"That's downright macabre," Pintel replied, coming to stand next to his relative. "I wonder what would happen if you dropped a cannonball on one of them?" By 'them' he meant the dead souls floating just under the surface of the water, bodies pale white and somewhat iridescent.

Cass sidled up to them, grinning. "Let's see, aye?"

They dashed to a nearby cannon and grabbed two shots each, only to be stopped in their tracks by Tia Dalma, who was glaring at them angrily.

"Be disrespectful, it would," Ragetti said meekly.

"Pirates! We get ta be disrespectful, mates!" Cass said this simply to annoy Tia Dalma all the more. By the look on her face, she achieved her goal.

"They should be in the care of Davy Jones. That was the duty him was charged with..." She knew that by bringing this up she would grate on the other woman's nerves. Tia Dalma shot a look of snark over at Cass, who was now slouching against the mast, glowering. "...by the goddess, Calypso. To ferry those who die at sea to the other side. And every ten years... ...him could come ashore..." Another jibe, this time rewarded with a low growl. "...to be with she who love him... truly." At this, Cass snorted.

"Truly love him, my-"

"But the man has become a monster," Tia Dalma finished, interrupting Cass' angry retort.

"So he wasn't always... tentacle-y," Ragetti asked. Had she not been so angered, Cass might have laughed at his choice of adjectives.

"No. Him was a man..." Tia Dalma said, once more looking out to sea. "...once." Cass looked about, uncrossing her arms and once more joining the group. Now Jack, Gibbs, Barbossa, Will, and Elizabeth were standing with them.

"Now there's boats coming."

"They're not a threat to us. Am I right?" Will pointed Gibbs' rifle away from the approaching figures, looking to Tia Dalma for guidance.

" We are nothing but ghosts to them," she replied.

" It's best just let them be," Barbossa agreed. Still, Cass wished to drop the shot she still held on one of them. A set of girls, identical in looks, drifted past, and then...

"It's my father. We've made it back. Father! Father, here, look here!" A man in a grey wig was who Elizabeth was shouting to, but Jack came up behind her, a somewhat sad look on his face.

"Elizabeth. We're not back."

That did not stop her, and she continued shouting to him. "Father!"

Finally, he looked up at them, and he too looked saddened. "Elizabeth. Are you dead?"

"No. No." She was grinning, obviously happy to see him again. For a moment, Cass felt a stroke of sadness. She had never known her father.

"I think I am." There were tears now glistening in his eyes, and a look of shock spread across Elizabeth's face. She continued to sidestep down the rail, trying to stay at the same place as her father, though their two vessels were traveling opposite directions.

"No, you can't be!"

He did not miss a beat, as if she had not said anything at all. "There was this chest, you see. It's odd. At the time it seemed so important." His eyes clouded over as he remembered, and inwardly Cass screamed that it was still important.

"Come aboard!"

"And a heart. I learned that if you stab the heart, yours must take its place. And you will sail the seas for eternity. The Dutchman must have a captain. Silly thing to die for." He turned away again, clearly not believing that they were really there, as they were. They true lay were ghosts to him.

"Someone, cast a line!" Elizabeth's voice grew shriller and shriller. "Come back with us!"

Marty slowly went about getting a rope, and Elizabeth grabbed it from him before tossing it out to the smaller boat. It fell across the front, and her father made no attempt to take it. "Take the line!"

The rope slid back as the distance increased, and it fell into the water before she pulled it in again. "I'm so proud of you, Elizabeth." He looked so sad, so utterly hopeless, and Cass found another rope and tossed it again, though with much worse aim so it flew past him.

"Father, the line! Take the line!" She rushed further up the ship, keeping pace with her father.

"She must not leave the ship!" Tia Dalma said loudly, just as Elizabeth almost jumped over the edge to retrieve her father. She was quickly caught as the entire group rushed up the stairs to the helm and Will grabbed her around the waist.

"Father! Please come with us!" She struggled against his grip, but he only held on tighter. "Please! No! I won't leave you!"

"I'll give your love to your mother, shall I?"

"Please, I won't let you go!" Elizabeth was shrieking, crying, struggling to save her father. Will tried to calm her down, but she kept yelling until he had disappeared along with the other boats.

Looking at Tia Dalma, he asked, "Is there a way?"

She shook her head. "Him at peace."

This last bit set Cass off again. "And yet you can bring Jack, Barbossa, and me back! Can't you see the pain his death causes her!" She pointed at the weeping Elizabeth, who was holding on to Will tightly. "At least try, will you?" She ran at the other woman, as if to strangle her. It did not seem that bad an idea to Cass, to choke the life out of her. "You might as well try, eh Calypso?" She made sure the goddess's name rang out loud enough for the entire crew to hear. Barbossa's eyes widened, and Jack stepped back some as well as the rest of the crew.

"Bound in her bones..." Barbossa muttered under his breath. Calypso looked furious

"Aye," Cass agreed. "The very same." She lunged, and Calypso leapt back, only to see Cass run past her, scoop up her weapon, and charge back. "If ye be bound in your bones, can ye die," she growled, swinging her blade as if to decapitate her. Calypso ducked, picked up her skirts, and scurried over to where Jack was. He, however, backed up as well. He had never seen Cass so angry, though the time after he had kissed her was a close second now.

Barbossa acted quickly, though, and grabbed the raging woman before she could do any damage. "Lass! 'Tis not wise to attack a heathen god, aye?" The muscles in her back rolled with tension as she longed to get at her and bring as much harm as she could before she was stopped.

Tia Dalma strode past her, smiling triumphantly at Cass as she seethed. And then Barbossa was wincing and Cass was running, having delivered a sharp kick to his shin. She was bellowing nonsense and chasing the goddess, who was wisely running away.

Jack sighed. "She is not going to be stopeped until she falls from exhaustion or she kills her, is she?" Barbossa asked.

"No. Someone should try, though." He looked at his old first mate, who was in turn looking at him. "Fine," Jack said, exasperated, and went to go stop Cass from mincing Tia Dalma.


	19. Chapter 19

Light had once more streaked across the sky, though this time the hours passed much quicker as those above worked to get out of the locker. Cass had decided to remain belowdecks, where she would be farthest from the people she was beginning to dislike. Those that thought her folly for her 'fight' with the goddess seemed to outnumber those that had any idea what all she had been through. It seemed only three people understood her reasoning, one of which was sobbing somewhere nearby. The other two were Ragetti and Pintel, and she had no idea if their opinions had changed over the time she had locked herself away. Between Jack and Calypso, Cass knew she hated the goddess more, and yet somehow she still wanted to knock Jack senseless with a plank for how low he considered her.

Deciding that she ought to at least check on the person who did not see her as a fool, Cass exited the rum hold, closing the squeezing door behind her. The rest of the space was wide open and was full of cargo and the lot. Somewhere in this maze, Elizabeth was mourning her father.

By ear alone she found her, sitting curled up in a far corner, protected by a large crate. Cass sat down next to her, not sure exactly what to do. Her previous self might have been capable of giving comfort, but she felt nothing in the pit of her stomach. She was not sad, angry, or mournful. She simply was.

"I suppose it is easier, not being able to feel." When her sobs quieted, Elizabeth spoke, though did not look up. "To never know loss."

"No, ye just have to have the fight with yourself over what you should be feeling, rather that actually feeling it. Sure, it protects you, but ye loose what makes you human."

"And somehow you learned to live with that?"

"No, I just keep living."

Elizabeth sighed. "If you could die, would you?"

Cass grinned. "I got something to live for and to die for, somewhere out on that sea."

Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you for what you did, trying to save my father and all."

"Ye are my friend, and he didn't deserve to die. Besides, why couldn't she bring him back"

"It means a great deal. If you ever need help..."

"I will make sure it doesn't put ye in too much danger and then I'll talk to ye." Both women laughed.

"Is it just me, or is the boat rocking more than it should be?" Cass wondered aloud, party ally hoping it was the Kraken come to bring her to Jones and the Dutchman.

A minute later, Barbossa yelled down the stairs, "Loose the cannons, you lazy bilge rats! Unstow the cargo! Let it shift!" As he went, he used a hatchet to break the ropes binding the cargo down. When he came to where the two women were huddled, he said, "ye two best be gettin' above."

They did, and under her breath, Cass asked who in their right mind gave him a hatchet. When they got to the deck, Elizabeth quickly grabbed the rail as the ship tilted on its side. Cass was not as lucky, but grabbed the rigging on the mast. Above her, everyone was dangling my their hands, until the ship righted itself and they were running again. This time she joined them, latching on to the rail next to Jack unintentionally.

"Now up...is down," he said, and she could smell his repugnant breath from where she was. To her dismay, Calypso was at her other side. She debated letting go, until she saw some man get crushed by a cannon who had somehow not gotten hold of the rail. She saw the waves rushing up to greet her, and quickly sucked in a large breath as the ship flipped entirely over. The salt of the sea might have once stung her eyes, but she could see clearly, either because the water had no effect on her eyes of because there was no salt to speak of.

Cass looked up when she felt pressure pressing down on her fingers, directly on the joints. Calypso's hand was on her own, attempting to have her loose her grip and drown in the depths. She kicked, attempting to boost herself back to the level where she could support herself better, just as her hand slipped from the railing. Immediately the goddess started on the other one, even as Cass struggled to grab on again. A stream of bubbles that would have been some colorful language came from her open mouth. It was as if the sea were pulling her down, and as much as she fought, she could not escape it's grip.

Her other hand gave way, and she was drifting. Will appeared to have the same fate and was also clawing at the water as if to swim back. Elizabeth was trying to bring him back, though it appeared she might fall from the railing soon.

Cass was going to die here. The water compressed on her chest, and her lungs worked to try to find even a hint of air. They burned inside her, and she fought to not inhale water up her nose. She had done so before, and it had not worked well. The sea water had stung her nostrils and throat for a half hour after, and her eyes had stung something fierce. She still struggled, grabbing at the rigging as she drifted by.

She would die in the arms of the sea. The thought struck her, and she realized it was not such a bad way to go. Painful, yes, but she was used to pain. Davy Jones was the sea, and so she would give up her last breath there. Cass stopped struggling, and closed her eyes, feeling the cool water slip by her skin. She gave in to the urge to fill her lungs, and the sea washed in there as well.

Then, they were rising. The water rushed past, dragging her back to the deck, where she promptly landed on Jack. He threw her off and walked away, not noticing that she was not breathing.

"Blessed sweet westerlies! We're back!" Gibbs was right above her, and it was he who noticed that she was all but lifeless. He shrugged, planned a foot on her unmoving chest, and stepped, forcing the water from her lungs. She came to coughing and spluttering to see pistols pointed at everyone above her. Barbossa had one of his pointed at Gibbs and one at Jack, who in turn pointed theirs at Will, Barbossa, and Elizabeth. Elizabeth pointed her pistols at Jack and Barbossa, and Will did the same. Cass, however, caught her breath and wished she herself had a pistol to point at Calypso, or even Jack.

Jack the monkey pointed a pistol and Cotton's parrot, who squawked "Parley?"

Slowly, the circle of pirates lowered their pistols, laughing. Cass really wanted a pistol then. Suddenly, they all snapped their weapons back to point at each other.

"All right, then!" Barbossa was the first to speak. "The Brethren Court is a-gathering at Shipwreck Cove. And, Jack, you and I are a-going. There'll be no arguing that point."

"I is arguing the point. If there's pirates a-gathering, I'm pointing my ship the other way," Jack replied.

"The pirates are gathering to fight Beckett, and you're a pirate!" Elizabeth pointed both pistols at Jack, who in turn did the same.

"Fight or not, you're not running, Jack." Will joined in, and now Jack had five pistols on him. Jack pointed one of his own at Will and kept the other trained on Elizabeth.

"If we don't stand together, they'll hunt us down one by one, till there be none left but you," Barbossa said as he stepped in, pointing one pistol at Jack and keeping the other pointed at Gibbs, though his back was to him.

"Quite like the sound of that. Captain Jack Sparrow, the last pirate."

"Aye. And you'll be fighting Jones alone. How does that figure into your plan?"

"I'm still working on that. But I will not be going back to the Locker, mate. Count on that." Cass could understand that, having not had the best experience in the land of death and punishment either. Jack pulled the trigger, prepared to shoot the other man in the heart. Yet the pistol did not shoot, rather it clicked and did nothing else. The rest of them began doing the same, with the same results.

"Wet powder." Gibbs looked exasperated.

Cass shook her head, coughed once more, and crawled away in the direction of the Crow's nest, where she promptly entered a coughing fit before falling asleep.

/

"You heard Captain Turner!" Cass awoke with a start, having heard the command bellowed from where she lay.

"Release her!" Unknown people were shouting, and she had no energy to flip over and see what was going on. And yet, how had this Turner fellow become Captain? And captain of what? The Pearl?

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Will Turner had command over the Black Pearl. That was it, wasn't it?

"Captain Turner?" Someone that sounded like Barbossa was speaking now.

"Aye, the perfidious rotter led a mutiny against us!" That one was definitely Gibbs.

"I need the Pearl to free my father." It only occurred to Cass that the one they Called Bootstrap Bill Turner was the 'perfidious rotter's father. Mentally, she slapped herself. "That's the only reason I came on this voyage."

"He needs the Pearl. Captain Turner needs the Pearl. And you felt guilty. And you and your Brethren Court. Did no one come to save me just because they missed me?" Whatever Jack was doing, he seemed to be listing off who all wanted what from him. From the silence that followed his question, Cass guessed that either no hands went up or so few did that it didn't matter. "I'm standing with them." The latter, then.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but there is an old friend who wants to see you first." The strange voice she had first heard spoke now, with a heavy accent.

"I'm not certain I can survive any more visits from old friends." Cass snorted at that.

"Here is your chance to find out."

'So not important, then,' Cass thought. She coughed, and closed her eyes again.

/

About an hour later, Cass clambered down the ropes to find out what all she was missing. Everyone was grouped together still, but another ship had pulled itself up alongside the Pearl.

One of the men from Singapore, this one with a large scar on the side of his bald head was talking, or rather arguing, with Barbossa. "And what do the Brethren have?" He was the first voice, the one from before, who had sent Jack to meet an only friend.

She walked up, about to thank him, but was grabbed by a man wearing what appeared to be a metal hat. She was shoved over to stand by Will and Elizabeth, who were looking less happy than she would expect the Captain of the Pearl to look.

"We have Calypso." Barbossa looked over the man's shoulder at her, and. Cass growled.

"Calypso. An old legend," the man said mockingly.

"No. The goddess herself, bound in human form. Imagine all the power of the seas brought to bear against our enemy. I intend to release her. But for that I need the Brethren Court." He reached over and picked at something on the other man's neck. He lifted it up, and she could see it was a necklace of some sort. "All the court."

The man nodded, looked around at his men as well as those of the navy. Cass saw them as well, and a deep anger and hate filled her. The man seemed to share her feelings, as he drew his sword and stabbed it through one if them. Soon, everyone around her was fighting, and Cass saw no reason not to join them. Growling, she leapt on top of a navy man, choking him with her arm and cutting off his air. He did not last as long as she would have hoped, but she used the opportunity to draw her own weapon. These men had taken the Dutchman, and were now trying to take the Pearl.

Another three went down to her blade, and she was grinning madly by the time the cannons started going off. Another man went down in front of her, and she stepped on him rather than around him. Ahead of her, Barbossa kicked a man wearing all black in the groin so he doubled over. She laughed, knowing he was as good as finished. Yet Barbossa turned around and took the helm, and the man jumped overboard.

Above her, Jack swung on a rope from the other ship, yelling. A second later, a pack of pirates followed him. She shrugged and looked for a new target, to find that the man and his crew had left the Perl and the fighting was over. Angrily, she kicked the body in front of her and went to find Elizabeth.

She was followed by Pintel and Ragetti, who were marching Will to the brig. Cass waved at him, and he frowned as she drew up beside him. "Where is Elizabeth?"

"With Sao Feng." Cass sighed. Her only friend on the ship was no longer just that: on the ship.


	20. Chapter 20

"By this time tomorrow, we will arrive at Shipwreck Cove and you will be free." Elizabeth had gotten a bath, new clothes, and a bit of much needed rest once she had come aboard the Sao Feng ship, which she later learned was called the Empress. She hoped she would not have to say the name of the ship anytime soon, because she might call it the Sao Feng ship rather than its true name. "Calypso."

"Excuse me?" Did he truly think she was the goddess? The real Calypso was still aboard the Black Pearl to her knowledge.

"Not a name you fancy, I imagine, out of the many that you have..." He circled about her, and she attempted to keep her head straight and appear to be a goddess. If he found she was simply Elizabeth Swann, and not Calypso, she would be killed. "...but it is what we call you."

"We being who?" She tried to appear taunting and all-knowing, and it seemed to work.

"You confirm it."

"Confirm what?" She smiled slightly. Paths I was not as hard as she thought. "You've told me nothing."

"The Brethren Court, not I. The First Brethren Court, whose decision I would have opposed. They bound you to human form so the rule of the seas would belong to man and not..." The man was brownnosing her, trying to get something out of her!

And still, she kept her act. "To me."

"But one such as you should never be anything less than what you are." She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Pretty speech from a captor," she said arrogantly. "But words whispered through prison bars lose their charm."

"Can I be blamed for my efforts? All men are drawn to the sea, perilous though it may be."

"And some men offer desire as justification for their crimes."

"I offer simply my desire." A twinge of fright and worry wove through her stomach, worried about what he might do. She needed to get away, and soon.

"And in return?"

"I would have your gifts, should you choose to give them." She nodded, and tried to put a playful smile on her face.

"And if I should choose not?" She moved closer to him, close enough to smell his breath.

"Then I will take..." She hoped that he would finish the sentence with 'nothing', but it was not so. "...your fury."

He threw her against the wall behind her kissing her mouth roughly. She tried to escape, but he had her arms, and her legs were useless under her dress. Was this how it had been for Cass? Elizabeth did not know, nor did she particularly want to find out. She bit his lip with all her strength, tasting blood. He quickly drew away, releasing her. As he staggered back up, a cannonball rocketed through the room, hitting him and throwing him against the far wall.

"Sao Feng?" Was he dead, or would he spring up and try to take her again?

"Here." He sounded weak. "Please." He was slumped against the wall, covered in splinters if wood from his ship. One particularly nasty one protruded from his stomach.. Sao Feng was dying. In his hand, he held the necklace he always wore. "With all nine pieces of eight, you will be free." She looked at him, wanting to tell him that she was not the goddess. "Take it! You are captain now."

"Me?" Why would he make her captain? Why not one of the men who served on his ship? Surely she did not outrank them.

He yanked her closer as she took the necklace. "Go in my place to Shipwreck Cove."

"Captain! The ship is taken. We cannot..." The crewman stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene in front of him.

"Forgive me... Calypso."

"Sao?" He did not answer, nor did her breathe again. The pirate lord of Singapore was dead.

"What did he tell you," the man who had just entered asked furiously. She assumed he was the first mate by his desperation to know the last words of his captain.

"He made me captain."

His face contorted in anger. "You are not my captain."

Soon enough they were on the Dutchman, the ship that had attacked them. Elizabeth recognized two of them that had chased her to get the chest while they were on Isla Cruces. It seemed like it was an age ago, but in reality it had been little under a mouth ago.

"Elizabeth!" A voice she never expected to hear again called her to her thoughts again.

"James Norrington." And indeed it was. She had known it was he who took the heart of Davy Jones from them, escaping under the ruse of saving them all. In doing so, he had given Beckett power.

"Thank God, you're alive. Your father'll be overjoyed to know you're safe." Now, he dared speak of her father, when he as good as killed him!

"My father is dead," she said angrily, not looking at him.

"No, that can't be true. He returned to England." Did he not know, or was he lying?

"Did Lord Beckett tell you that?" From the look on his face, he had.

"Who among you do you name as captain?" He attempted to take the pressure off himself by changing the subject, but Elizabeth's angered gaze never moved from his face.

"Captain? Her." The first mate said with no emotion whatsoever. Fine time for him to declare his allegiance.

"I prefer to remain with my crew." She knew he would offer his quarters, but there was no way in Heaven nor Hell she would do so.

As they were marched to what she assumed was the brig, Norrington caught up with her, holding her back.

"Elizabeth." His voice was sad, almost regretful. "I swear I did not know."

"Know what? Which side you chose?" She hoped ever bit of hurt and betrayal was eminent in her voice. "Well, now you do."

/

"You escaped the brig even quicker than I expected." Jack watched from the bow as Will tied yet another body to a barrel before tossing it overboard and beginning again with another lost soul. "William, do you notice anything? Rather...do you notice something that is not there to be noticed?"

The other man pointed his knife at him. "You haven't raised an alarm."

"Odd, isn't it?" Jack wrinkled his nose at the sight if what Will had been doing. "Not as odd as this. Come up with this all by your lonesome, did you?"

"I said to myself,'Think like Jack.'" It seemed like an insult to him.

"This is what you've arrived at? Lead Beckett to Shipwreck Cove so as to gain his trust, accomplish your own ends? It's like you don't know me at all, mate." Will lowered the knife, deciding that Jack was not a threat presently. In truth, Jack did not know what he was going to do with him. "And how does your dearly beloved feel about this plan?"

Will looked away.

"Ah! You've not seen fit to trust her with it."

"I'm losing her, Jack." There was no mistaking the sadness in his voice. "Every step I make for my father is a step away from Elizabeth."

"If you choose to lock your heart away, you'll lose her for certain." 'And if I lock mine away, I will have an angry, murderous, insane girl after me'. "If I might lend a machete to your intellectual thicket..." He walked past the other man, speaking as he did so, "avoid the choice altogether. Change the facts. Let someone else dispatch Jones."

"Who? You?" 'Yes, and be immortal while Cass finds some way to counter it and send me back to the locker?' He would stab the heart, but make sure the girl was on some far away island and therefore unable to kill him.

"Death has a curious way of reshuffling one's priorities." As he spoke, the idea played out in his mind. "I slip aboard the Dutchman, find the heart, stab the beating thing," 'possibly get stabbed by an angry wench meself,' "your father's free from his debt, you're free to be with your charming murderess."

"You're willing to cut out your heart and bind yourself to the Dutchman...forever?"

Ah, and now we come to the benefits for me. "No, mate. I'm free forever. Free to sail the seas beyond the edges of the map. Free from death itself." A silly grin threatened to curl on his lips at the thought of becoming 'the Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow.'

"You have to do the job though, Jack. You have to ferry souls to the next world. Or end up just like Jones." Will motioned at his jaw, as if stroking an invisible beard of tentacles. Jack shuddered.

"I don't have the face for tentacles." He stroked his own beard to erasure himself it would never become like that. 'The Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow!' A voice in his head yelled gleefully. "But immortal has to count for something, eh?"

He knew what he was going to do with Will. Pulling his compass from its place at his hip, he handed it to Will. "What's this for," Will asked, but took it.

"Think like me. It'll come to you." When will looked up, Jack sucked in a breath and blew his smelly breath into Will's face. Will reeled back from the stench, toppling over the railing and falling from the ship to land in the sea. When he surfaced, Jack shoved the barrel and body overboard as well. Will grabbed on to it, glaring up at Jack. "My regards to Davy Jones!" Jack made a false salute gesture, as if he truly meant to send regards to the tentacled man.

Below, Will muttered his hatred for Jack.

/

Davy Jones was not at all happy. Nor was he angry or sad. In fact, he could not feel anything at all.

With the Navy men aboard the Dutchman, they could not slip below the waves without drowning them all. If he did that, someone would shoot or stab his heart, and he would not be able to find the girl again. He would never be able to feel the sea on his face, never see the sinking of another ship, not where he would go. Besides, if Calypso took her duty back of ferrying those who died at sea back, who knew what she would do with him. Most likely, she would imprison him and torment him for all eternity.

She had already cursed someone this decade, so unless she was found, recognized, and released, it would be another ten years before he had to deal with her curses again. In her human form, her powers took long to recharge, one of the things he had been told after he helped the Brethren Court bind her in her bones.

Hopefully she would never be found again, and he could be free of the East India Trading Company long enough to return to his Locker.

The Locker, the heart, the Dutchman. The Dutchman must have a captain. If the heart was stabbed, theirs must take its place. It was all linked, and the thoughts began swirling like a maelstrom in his mind, rearranging the order until it formed a clear line... A plan.

He would return to his quarters one last time, and the guards would stab the heart. They were weak in spirit, not ones to command the Dutchman as a true captain would. The crew could take care of that in his absence. One would stab the heart, and he would go to the Locker. Calypso could not interfere, though she would know what had been done. He would be safe to travel to the land of punishment and bring back the lass, and then they would leave and reclaim the seas.

The image of her before the curse had set in had become fuzzy in his thoughts, as if he could not quite remember her face. The face of the cure was still ingrained in his memory, and he wished it would be otherwise. No woman would want to be remembered as ugly and horrific, and yet that was how it was to be. Of all men, he knew what it felt like to be a monster. How could he judge anyone by their appearance after that? Well, aside from rat-man, who's voice and personality were described by his name perfectly.

Beckett had not remained on the ship, and wisely so. Jones would have had him killed if he still stood aboard the Dutchman, and they both knew it. Instead, the rat-man was left aboard to see to it that Jones did as commanded. He did so, though regrettably and with many a threat spoken under his breath. Finally, it was time the power changed hands.

He began his walk to where he used to spent most of his time, realizing that he truly did not want to leave his ship in the command of some imbecile. His eyes traveled the railings, and for the first time he noticed the engrave meant of the crab-woman, identical to the one on the locket that She had given him. He glowered at the woodwork, hoping for once that their next target managed a shot at the Dutchman and hit her squarely in her crab-face.

Jones growled and picked up his pace, his crab leg hardly hindering him after the many years he had been used to it. If anything, it made him seem all the more ominous, but he payed no mind to that. The anger had grown inside him, and the doors to his quarters were almost an arm's length away. Another step and he reached out, ripping both door handles clan off with the force he used to open the door. The men on guard snapped to attention, hastily charging their bayonets and pointing them at the open chest.

His chest heaved at the knowledge of what he was about to do. He felt every one of his muscles, the ones in his leg tightening in making ready to fight or flee, the former being the only option at this point. He reached for his sword, swinging the heavy blade from the place at his hip and examining it. After a moment of silence, his eyes snapped to the three men standing there, terrified looks on their faces, though two hid it much better than the third. A wicked smile slowly appeared on his face, though there was no humor in it. Confidence, anger, and malady, yes, but happiness... Never. "Do ye fear death-uh?"

None of them said a word. "Really now- I know ye do!" Without warning, the blade became a blur as it flashed twos the man on the end, who was obviously the most afraid. There was almost no resistance as the sword cut his head clean off, his body falling to the floor a second after his head did.

"Don't move, or I'll stab it!" Another man, this one from the other side of the room, had his bayonet poised above the chest, though his arms were shaking and his face was shiny from sweat and sea.

Jones did not care less about the threat. "And do ye know the implications-uh?" He stepped forward, knowing that the man would not do as he said. "Stab the heart, yer part of the ship-uh. How would ye like to have your still beating heart ripped from your body wile ye still live? The Dutchman must have a captain-uh!" The man went white, hands shaking all the more, and Jones laughed. "Go ahead, try yer luck-uh!"

"Halt!" A new voice rang out through the room, and more soldiers rushed into the room. Rat-man also emerged from the entrance, as well as a man Jones recognized but did not know. He had come aboard along with the heart, those few nights ago. By his coat, he was of Admiral rank, and Jones addressed him as such.

"Do ye fear death, Admiral?" Where was his crew? Stuck below decks, inevitably.

The man did not acknowledge the question. "Captain Jones, Lord Beckett requests your presence apron the Endeavor." Did the man not know who he was?

"Ye may tell Lord Beckett," he said the name with malice, "that I decline his request-uh."

"He also said that you would say that, in which case I was to tell you that it is of the utmost importance."

Jones rolled his eyes and stabbed another man through the stomach, the one because they were moving around behind his back.

"Please refrain from skewering, decapitating, and generally bringing harm to my men!" Jones had to give it to him, he did manage to keep his head-partially.

Jones brought the now-bloodied sword to the Admiral's throat. "And why, pray tell, should I do that-uh?"

"Dis- Dismissed." The order was unexpected, but the men hastily left the room. Even rat-man left, though he a bit more reluctantly that the others. "I loath the man as much as you, and yet he holds something above both our heads. He says that he has information come to light on someone you know. I wish to stop his takeover of the seas and you wish to be free. I propose we form an alliance, of sorts."

Someone he knew. He knew a great many, and had damned the lot of them, yet his thoughts immediately jumped to the lass. Had she escaped? "What be your name, Admiral?"

"James Norrington."

"Then, Admiral Norrington, we are agreed."

He stepped from his cabin, bellowing an order to lay anchor and wait for the ship that was now drawing closer. The Endeavor.


	21. Chapter 21

"Come with me." James Norrington stood there, having just opened the small door to the cell. When no one moved, he seemed to become more exasperated than before. "Quickly." Elizabeth kept her face impassive, not knowing whether to trust her former friend or not. And yet, the first mate looked to her, and she knew if they wanted to get off the Dutchman, they ought to trust him, despite his crimes. She nodded, and the crew quickley filed out, speaking quietly to each other. For the last hour, they had stood there silently, though no one was down in the brig to see them doing so.

"What are you doing?" She was the las one to leave, coming face to face with the man she had almost married. She could not believe he had allowed her father to be killed! How could he?

"Choosing a side."

They climbed through a hole in the side if the ship and along the side to the bow, whee lines had been strung up between the two ships. Behind them, the damaged Empress was being towed, and the crew hastily began shimmying down the lines to reclaim their ship. Elizabeth, however, was pulled aside, Norrington speaking hastily and with much urgency in his voice. "Do not go to Shipwreck Cove. Beckett knows of the meeting of the Brethren. I fear there may be a traitor among them."

Was he trying to earn her favor once more? She had no idea, and yet a bit of her wanted desperately to trust the man she had once known. 'He let your father die!' The voice in her mind screamed. "It's too late to earn my forgiveness."

"I had nothing to do with your father's death. But that does not absolve me of my other sins." He truly looked sorry, and as if when she had told him the news it had been the first time he had heard of it. Though he might, as he said, have other sins, being a liar was not one of them. No, he simply had made the wrong call, and was in need of another chance. Though the air between them would never be completely empty of mistrust, she was willing to at least spare his life.

"Come with us. James, come with me."

A shuffling was head on the balcony above them, and he quickly shoved her behind him. Bootstrap emerged, a strange look in hie eyes. "Who goes there?" His voice cut across the dark, shattering their need to whisper. The entire ship would know their location soon enough.

It was not the crew of the Flying Dutchman that Norrington was afraid of, rather the Navy. Though of high rank now, there was still much distrust between Mercer, Beckett, and himself, and it was well founded. Norrington had, after all, struck an alliance with the devil himself. The Dutchman would not hurt him, so long as he helped break the bonds the EITC had on the cursed captain.

"Go. I will follow."

"You're lying."

"I am not, as it is. The crew of the Dutchman will not harm me."

Elizabeth shook her head, not believing for a moment what he said. "Just because you are part of the group that controls them does not mean they will not harm you!"

He shook his head in a way that clearly said that that was not his point. "I have struck a deal with Jones."

Elizabeth could feel her eyes widen with shock. First Jack and Will, then Cass, and now James? Once she thought about it, was Beckett's drive simply to control the seas with Jones's heart? Now, with the goddess Calypso in the mix, everything was going to the dogs. Everything had suddenly become about the tenticled sea captain, and most of it was not in his best interest. No, it seemed Cass was the only one who seemed to truly want to help him.

Elizabeth had heard pieces and parts of the other woman's story, but never her motivation as to why she wished to help Jones. From the way the girl clammed up a bit at the mention of her past life, she could tell it was not the best of subjects, and the truth would come out at its own time. The only thing she had to worry about in terms of her friend was her actions, which were slowly becoming more and more violent, especially as her anger built up. She seemed to nurse a sore spot for Jack, sending a glare at him each time he got too close. For that Elizabeth could not blame her. The captain seemed to have his own agenda, even if it ended up hurting the rest of them. If Cass had gotten in the mix with that, and especially in the fragile state she was in before the Dutchman as well as after, she could understand the motive. Yet, killing Jack would not accomplish anything accept adding his name to the list of those she had killed.

It was always about Davy Jones, wasn't it? And yet, the man had little control over his own destiny. Rather like Cass. Even as the thought entered her mind, she decided to dwell in it later on, as it seemed to be something that might take much brainpower.

"Sailor, tell the Captain K have taken my leave when he returns."

"Aye," Bootstrap replied in a rather hushed voice. "Will you be needing a diversion?"

"Nay, simply keep an eye on Mercer will do."

Elizabeth was in shock, watching as this interaction took place. Somehow, it was all starting to click into place, yet the gaps between the significant bits became all to apparent. "We must go to Shipwreck Cove. I must find Cass and piece some things together, and we must warn the pirate lords of what is to come."

"Elizabeth-" but she was already climbing the railing and latching on to the ropes. Norrington quickly followed behind her, and she watched as Bootstrap's silhouette disappeared.

The climb left her muscles aching, and halfway though she had to remind herself that she was regaining her freedom ever as her arms burned and she wished to stop. James clearly was not going as fast as he would have liked, keeping behind her as she set the pace. And keep the pace she did, until her aching legs were back on the Empress. The crew was already setting about getting ready to make way, thought the first mate had watched as they had made their way inboard as well.

"Am I your captain yet?" She asked, sarcasm drenching her words.

The man had seen her do a few things inspiring them to follow her, not the least of which was attempting to help Sao Feng, staying with the crew, and taking the blame for captain though they had refused her leadership.

"Aye."

She had not been expecting that. Yet, a command quickly came to her lips. "Make was for Shipwreck Cove, as fast as possible."

/

"Look alive and keep a weather eye!" They were nearing the port, and already Cass could see why it was called what it was. The entire island seemed to be a gigantic sore lifting from the sea made entirely out of old shipwrecks. As soon as she tried to folks on one thing, another caught her eye. The lights were glowing golden in the darkness, and already she was glad to be there. If she were to settle down anywhere, it would be here, she felt.

Below, on the deck, Jack was speaking with Gibbs about something another, and Cass was watching them. She almost wanted to go down there and try to get the old Jack she knew, the one who had taken her aboard the Pearl in the first place, the one who had comforted her, back. Yet, this softer side of him seemed to hardly exist, not since he had kissed her. Was the whole taking care of her one huge ploy to lure her in? She hoped not. In her own opinion, she had taken enough stress for one girl without Jack's motives in the picture.

She turned her eyes back to the beautiful town, wishing she knew the future. From what had already transpired, she knew that the EITC was going to attempt to eliminate the pirates sometime soon. She also knew that Jones was somewhere with them, and undoubtably unhappy about it. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered how he was fairing. Had news of her and Jack's return to life reached him yet, or was he still thinking she was in the Locker? Would he go try to retrieve her, or was his freedom so restricted that he could not eve do that? In that way he was much like her. Though her fate was much more in her own hands, she still was being tossed around like a rag doll. She would add that to the list of things that made them alike.

Climbing down, she decided it would be a good time to stretch her legs while they still worked. As she passed Jack, he grabbed her arm and swung her back around to face him. "You have been mysteriously absent through all these dealings."

"Or maybe I have simply been in the background, mad ye have been ignoring me," she replied, snatching her arm back. She did not, however, step away, instead she once again turned to face the incoming town. "The stakes are high, aren't they? Much higher than anyone thinks?"

Jack rested his arms on the railing as she had, and nodded. "I suspect there will be a battle to fight, an not everyone will make it alive."

Cass sighed. "Not only that, but this will be what it all comes down to, whether Piracy lasts another decade or not."

He turned to look at her, an almost sad look on his face. "I suppose ye will be fighting, then."

Her grin confirmed it: she had cone slightly mad. "Wouldn't miss it for all the rum in the world."

Jack shook his head disbelievingly. "I would."

It was as close those two would come to apologizing, and they both acknowledged it. They were prideful pirates, after all, and had reputations to keep. Still, they were on much better terms now, and that was what counted.

/

"I do not renege on a bargain once struck. But we agreed on ends only. The means are mine to decide." Barbossa was at the bow, Calypso standing with him. In truth he had known that she was a goddess long before Cass had decided it fit to let the whole ship know.

"Caution, Barbossa. Do not forget it was by my power you return from the dead. Or what it mean if you fail me." As always, her English was poor. It seemed though that he and Cassandra shared one similarity, that they did not particularly care for the fish goddess.

"Don't you forget why you had to bring me back. Why I could not leave Jack to his well-deserved fate. It took nine pirate lords to bind you, Calypso. And it'll take no less than nine to set you free." In truth, he did not want to see her set free. Though she may be appeased for a few minutes, eventually her wrath would once again fall onto the pirates of the globe again. "Masters Pintel and Ragetti. Take this fishwife to the brig."

"Right this way, Mrs. Fish," Ragetti said as he pretended to escort her to the brig.

/

Davy Jones did not know what he would see when he opened the doors to Beckett's office. Would she be standing there, somehow caged once again? Or would She be there, laughing at him as she always was? Neither, as it turned out. The second figure in the room was decidedly male, one he recognized, in fact. "I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup."

"Apparently, you can." The man mistook his reason for being here. This was not because of some order he had given, rather his own curiosity. "I believe you know each other."

"Come to join my crew again, Master Turner?"

The man in the burgundy shirt turned, a smug smile on his face. He held a tea cup, and looked all the more intolerable. Jones scowled. "Not yours. His." Will Turner gestured at Beckett, who was looking quite amused at the encounter. Will turned away, but then back, as if remembering something. "Jack Sparrow sends his regards."

"Sparrow?" Sparrow was back from the Locker? Did that mean... Could the lass be with him? Had she returned to the land of the living as well? He attempted to hide his curiosity on her behalf from his eyes so she could not be used against him, at her own expense. "Sparrow?"

"You didn't tell him." Turner had this all planned, he could tell. What he could not tell was what side he was on. "We rescued Jack from the Locker along with the Black Pearl."

"What else have you not told me?" What was he hiding? That the Brethren Court had found Calypso and intended to release her?

"There is an issue far more troublesome." The man who had so irked him strode around to a safe distance away, turning his back on him while sipping on his cup of tea. "I believe you're familiar with a person called Calypso."

How could it be? He had thought her long gone, but now... Was it a near coincidence that her name surfaced now, of all times? "Not a person. A heathen god. One who delights in cursing men with their wildest dreams and then revealing them to be hollow and naught but ash." His beard twitched at the memory of how she had betrayed him so long ago. No matter how hard he tried, the image of her with that other man would always be imprinted in mis mind. "The world is well rid of her." And once she had been done with him, she had decided he did not deserve to love again, and cursed the one woman in a thousand years to even remotely care for him, even if it meant she lost her own heart in the process.

"Not quite so well, actually." Turner finally spoke up, then took a sip of his own tea. What the two of them saw in the drink was a mystery. He himself found it to be bitter and slimy, not something he enjoyed. Then again, he had not had need for food or drink in hundreds of years, so it made no difference, really. "The Brethren Court intends to release her."

Had he not been thinking that this might have been the news? And there he was, hoping the nameless girl was there. At least there was a chance she was alive once more. But should the goddess be released, she would most certainly die.

"No! They cannot!" His beard writhed angrily, and his fingers twitched. He had to keep from snapping his crab claw and breaking something. "The First Court promised to imprison her forever! That was our agreement!"

Somehow, Beckett did not know exactly what was at stake here. His vioce, which Jones was getting tired of! Remained quiet. "Your agreement?"

He shrugged, remembering the joy he had gotten to see her fall from her power. "I showed them how to bind her. She could not be trusted. I... She gave me no choice." Just as she gave me no choice but to kill the girl in order to save her. His anger flared up again at the injustice of it all. "We must act before they release her!"

"You loved her." The quiet voice made him turn to look at Turner again. Again, he took a sip of tea. "She's the one. And then you betrayed her." Did he not understand anything?

"She pretended to love me! She betrayed me!" Why was this so difficult to understand?

Turner stood up, facing the enraged captain. "And after which betrayal did you cut out your heart, I wonder." Jones had had enough. He knocked the china cup from his hand, and was satisfied when the tea splattered onto the table and the cup shattered.

"Do not test me."

"I hadn't finished that." The damned whelp was as bad as Beckett! Such anger filled him, he felt as if he would explode. There they were, making him relive these awful memories, while he had no idea of the fate of the one good thing that had happened to him yet. "You will free my father." He would not! The man had chosen his fate, just as his son had. "And you will guarantee Elizabeth's safety. Along with my own." This last bit was directed to the wig man.

"Your terms are steep, Mr. Turner. We will expect fair value in return."

"There is only one price I will accept: Calypso murdered!"

"From what I have seen aboard the Pearl, someone has already attempted to do so."

"And who would that be?" Was it too much to hope for that it was the girl?

"A slightly mad woman by the name of Cassandra Evens. To my knowledge, she was in the Locker with Jack, as well as aboard your ship for a bit of time."

Her name was Cassandra Evens. And she was alive.

"Calypso's aboard the Black Pearl. Jack has sailed the Black Pearl to Shipwreck Cove."

"And with you no longer aboard her, how do you propose to lead us there?"

"What is it you want most?"

What did he want most? To be at Shipwreck Cove himself, and to find the lass he had not stopped thinking about for nigh two weeks. The battle would happen there, and if the release of the goddess went as planned, Cassandra would die there. They must act fast.


	22. Chapter 22

Both Barbossa and Pintel had joined Jack and Cass in looking at the town they were drawing ever closer to. The closer they got, the more Cass's eyes were drawn to the strange city. Surrounded by unclimbable cliffs, the place really was a fortress. The sea had weathered down the rocks, making them smooth and slippery, so if one tried to climb up, they would sink to the depths, most likely strongly concussed. "Look at them all," Pintel said, appreciation in his voice.

"There's not been a gathering like this in our lifetime," Barbossa said to Jack, who was still leaning on the rail.

Jack looked over his shoulder, and said unhappily that he owed them all money. Cass wondered how he had accomplished such a feat, as there were so many of them. Surely the EITC and Royal Navy could not stand up to this!

"Aye, that ye do," Barbossa said, glaring down at him. Apparently he was included on that list, and had just remembered as Jack had said so.

"I seem to suddenly owe everyone debts," Jack muttered and walked off towards the helm. Cass looked at Barbossa.

"How much does he owe ye?"

He looked at her curoiusely. "Seventeen shillings. Why?"

Cass shook her head. "In the cabin, check the second drawer on the left in the desk." Barbossa shrugged and left, presumably to do so. At the helm, Jack began bellowing orders as the ship swerved around rocks and half-submerged shipwrecks. Though Cass was far beyond reach of some of the shards, she reached out anyway, hoping for her fingers to brush the shattered planking as they passed. She stared off loosing herself in thought, not turning even as someone came up behind her.

Something jingled by her ear, muffled slightly by the small bag it was in. Only then did she look out of the corner of her eye at the half-smiling Barbossa. In his hand he held Jack's debt, now paid. She nodded, a small smile on her own face, and returned to her thoughts. Barbossa went somewhere else, presumably to take the helm. He and Jack had divided the captainship between the two sides of the ship, the starboard side belonging to Barbossa and the Port side belonging to Jack. One could often see them squabbling over the wheel, and the did so on a very regular basis. When Cass looked to the helm a few minutes later, that was exactly what was happening, both captains putting their full weight and strength into turning the wheel to their own side, despite the obstacles in the way.

At least Calypso had been jailed, though the purpose of which she was less happy about. The Brethren Court, Barbossa in the lead, wanted to release her, which meant certain death or infinite pain for Cass. That, she was worried about. Already she knew the goddess had power over death, so asking to be killed was out of the question. She would be brought back for torture, or simply sent to a place of horrid punishment. If the goddess was released, she had no escape. Therefore, she could not let them release her.

Originally, she had not seen the value of sitting in a room with a bunch of squabbling pirates. She would have taken her free time to wander through the town, maybe buy a new sword. This one she had taken from Jack served it's purpose, yet something about it just did not fit with her. She was not sure what was different about it, but it was not the sword for her.

It had worked well enough during the taking back of the Pearl, but she would prefer to have a better weapon for the incoming battle they all seemed to know was coming. Even as she though of it, her hand traveled to her hip where she grasped the handle of the sword, feeling the grip not fit right with her hand.

Finally, the Black Pearl pulled up to a dock, and the crew, aside from a few, disembarked on to the rickety wooden planks that had been arranged to form a dock of sorts. Cass looked about, attempting to find the Empress, but the ship was nowhere in sight. She hoped the Endeavor had not tracked it down and her friend was dead. That would make another benefit to going to the meeting: Elizabeth might be there as well, and she would finally have someone to talk to.

As she walked towards the gangplank, Jack stepped in her way. "I don't think you should be a-coming, lass."

She hardly acknowledged him. "And why not?"

"Ye could get lost, or someone could take ye, or ye could cause trouble." He listed the reasons on his fingers, then smiled as if he was proud of himself for remembering.

Cass rolled her eyes. "I need to go. They cannot release Calypso, I have to find a new sword, as well as my friend."

Jack looked rather surprised. "Friend? I hope ye don't mean Jones, Beckett, or any more of that ilk."

She scowled, angry he would even think she would betray them, or that Jones was ilk. "Elizabeth, jacka-"

"Oi! Fine, you can come. But don't mess anything up, aye?"

She glared, but nodded nonetheless. Jack stepped out of the way, offended she would take his name in vain, least of all his rear end.

/

"As he who issued summons, I convene this, the Fourth Brethren Court." Barbossa, at the head of a large oaken table, banged a cannonball as if it were a gavel to call order to the array of pirates. Each Lord had brought along some of their own men, just as Jack and Barbossa had. "To confirm your lordship and right to be heard, present now your pieces of eight, my fellow cap'ns."

Ragetti was sent around, looking a bit uneasy as he collected what appeared to be whatever the Pirate Lords had on hand at the present. Cass could not blame him much, seeing as many of these men (and women, she noted as she noticed Mistress Ching) would shoot each other dead without a second thought. Ragetti was directly in the middle of it.

Beside her, Pintel noted that what was being put in the bowl was not pieces of eight, rather pieces of junk. "Aye," Gibbs nodded from next to Pintel. "The original plan was to use nine pieces of eight to bind Calypso. But when the First Court met, the Brethren were to a one skint broke." Cass snorted. Because of her, Jack probably was too. She found that a bit fitting.

"So change the name!"

"To "nine pieces of whatever we happened to have in our pockets at the time?" Oh, yes. That sounds very piratey." By this point, a rather relieved looking Ragetti had made a lap of the table and was now standing next to Barbossa.

"Master Ragetti, if you will." Ragetti looked very unhappy, clearly understanding what Barbossa ment.

"I kept it safe, just like you said when you gave it to me." So that was it. Barbossa was not settling for robbing Jack, now he would move on to the oh-so-difficult-to-rob-or-influence Ragetti. Cass stepped on his foot, yet Barobssa did not react at all.

"Aye, you have. But now I need it back." He snaked Ragetti on the back of the head, causing his wooden eye to fall from his eye socket and into the bowl.

"Sparrow," one of the pirate lords bellowed at Jack, and he turned from staring at the swords protruding from the globe, hand automatically going to the small coin on his bandana.

"Might I point out that we are still short one pirate lord, and I'm as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us." Having never seen an actual cucumber, Cass was not sure if they were content as Jack said or not.

With perfect timing, the door burst open and a group of pirates entered, led by Elizabeth. Cass grinned and waved. Elizabeth smiled a bit, but quickly schooled her expression into the sternness of a pirate captain. "Sao Feng is dead. He fell to the Flying Dutchman."

Jack looked surprised, almost angry. "And made you captain? They're giving the bloody title away now!"

"Listen! Listen to me!" The pirates had begun to fight again, and it took both Elizabeth shouting and Barbossa slamming the cannonball into the table to call order again. "Our location has been betrayed. Jones is under the command of Lord Beckett. They're on their way here."

"Who is this betrayer?" A pirate lord with a very ugly gray wig asked.

"Not likely anyone among us." Barbossa said, glaring at the room.

Elizabeth too looked around. "Where's Will?"

It was Jack who answered. "Not among us." Come to think of it, Cass hadn't seen Will Turner nice they had escaped the locker.

"It matters not how they found us. The question is, what will we do now that they have?" Barobssa was back to bellowing, as almost no one seemed to be listening anymore.

"We fight!" Elizabeth joined in on yelling, and everyone else increased volume to make sure they were the ones heard this time.

"Shipwreck Cove is a fortress. A well-supplied is no need to fight if they cannot get to us," Mistress Ching reasoned.

"There be a third course. In another age, at this very spot, the First Brethren Court captured the sea goddess and bound her in her bones." This was the part where. Cass would start loudly protesting, fighting tooth and nail to ensure she was heard. "That was a mistake." It absolutely was not! "Oh, we tamed the seas for ourselves, aye. But opened the door to Beckett and his ilk."the word 'ilk' seemed to be gaining popularity fast in terms of describing Beckett. "Better were the days when mastery of seas came not from bargains struck with eldritch creatures, but from the sweat of a man's brow and the strength of his back alone." Eldritch creatures? He could not mean... In order to capture Calypso, had Jones helped in some way? "You all know this to be true. Gentlemen." He looked to where Cass stood, fuming. "Ladies. We must free Calypso."

"Never!" Cass bellowed, and her cry was lost to the rest of the pirates voicing their own opinions.

"Shoot him!"

"Cut out his tongue!"

At the same time, Cass said to do both while Jack said "Shoot him, cut out his tongue, then shoot his tongue. And trim that scraggly beard."

"Sao Feng would've agreed with Barbossa," Tai Huang said.

It was not long before the room was decided and pistols were drawn. Cass leapt up on the table, the pistol she had retrieved from Jack's cabin shortly after the return from the Locker pointed at Barbossa. "She cannot go free! I will not allow it!" Even though she was bellowing, her voice mixed in both the rest of the pirates, who were doing likewise. Barbossa backed up some, saying something to Elizabeth. Then Cass punched him squarely in the nose.

/

The ship was all but empty, save for the woman in the brig and the few men above decks. Jones would not doubt that Cass would have gone with Sparrow to the Bretheren Court meeting, if not soley to protest Calypso's release. Meanwhile the goddess herself sat in a cell, listening to her musical locket. It was one of a pair, the other of which he held in his hand. The Dutchman had drawn close enough to Shipwreck Cove that he could phase onto the ship, and he had hoped on the off chance that Casandra was there that he could give her one of the last reminders of his old love. She knew his song, so why not give her it as well?

The flickering light from the lantern glinted off the shiny surface as she closed it, and the music stopped suddenly. Of its own volition, his own music box began playing, having opened in his hand. It played at a slightly different key, sounding a bit more minor than hers. Now that she knew he was here, he saw no point in remaining in the shadows. Slowly, he stepped froward, not sure exactly how he felt about seeing her again. He was definitely angry, and that feeling was predominant, a writhing mass in his stomach roaring for him to slit her throat and be done with the woman who had hurt him so much.

"My sweet, You come for me." She was smiling at him, but there was something behind the black depths of her eyes. She knew about Casandra. 'Of course she does! She cursed her!'

If she was given the chance, she would kill her. If she was merciful. He doubted she would be.

If he pretended to still love her, would she leave Cassandra alone? Probably not. There were so many 'ifs' in this situation, and the goddess was not helping any. Should he pretend to be something he was not? No, he had had enough of that. He would do what he should have done long ago. He would cut the strings, no longer be the goddess's puppet. It would mean ceartain death for him and Cassandra, but they had both conquered it. He had a feeling she would not stop fighting until they were both free, and that was quite heartening."You were expecting me."

He would play it out, and then hit when it would hurt most. "It has been torture, Trapped in this single form. Cut off from the sea. From all that I love. From you." She was a bloody liar, pretending that she had not messed with his life even in her human form.

'Forget it,' he thought. 'This thing has caused me so much pain, to give her some as well is too good an opportunity to pass. "Ten years I devoted to the duty you charged to years I looked after those who died at sea." He walked up slowly to the bars, where she had moved to stand, her hands reaching out from the bars for him. "And, finally, when we could be together again...you weren't there." He shut the music box with a snap that counted remarkably like 'Cass.' Was that what she was called? "I searched for ye, and found ye with another. Why? Why would you do such a thing!"

She smiled softly, playing with one of his tentacles. He wrenched his head away, so that she could not lay her filthy hands on him again. "It's my nature. Would you love me if I was anything but what I am?" What kind of a reason was that? Simply because she was a goddess did not mean she had the right to play a man as she had played him. She did not love him, but she enjoyed using him to achieve her own means. She was quite like Sparrow in that way, and if he was correct in assuming, he had been one of the many men she had taken as lovers in his absence. She truly did not love him. And to think for a moment he had loved her...

"I do not love you."

"And what of the whelp? The one who see you with love in her eyes? The one who would evoke the wrath of a goddess to avenge you?" Cassandra had tried to harm her. Mentally, he reminded himself to thank her later on.

"Ye know better than anyone I cannot love. And neither can she. Yet she is twice the woman you could ever be."

"But do you love her?"

He shook his head. They could not love each other. Whatever was left of his heart though was as good as hers.

She grinned, showing black teeth. "Many things you were, Davy Jones. But never cruel. You have corrupted your purpose, and so your self." She reached once more through the bars, touching the place where the jagged scar was hidden under his coat and shirt. "And you did hide away what should always have been mine." His beard suddenly shot up into his face, replaced by human flesh and hair. She had somehow reverted him back to how he had looked before he cut out his heart.

He staggered away, becoming the great octopus man he was once again. Cassandra did not hate him for his appearance. She in fact was going through similar pain. "Do not touch me!" He backed away even more, anger lighting in his eyes.

Her arms still protruded fir the bars, reaching for him. "I will be free. And when I am, I would give you my heart. And we would be together always."

"Never. You have long since fallen from my good graces-uh," he said angrily. "Besides, this 'whelp' you speak of actually cares for my well being, something you have never done-uh." She looked mildly offended.

"If only you had a heart to give." He slammed his claw against the bars angrily. He did have a heart! It just... Wasn't inside him. "Why did you come?"

He glared at her fiercely. "And what fate have you planned for your captors?" What will you do to Cassandra?

"The Brethren Court? The whelp? All of them, the last thing they will learn in this life..." An evil grin spread across her face, "...is how cruel I can be. And what of your fate, Davy Jones?"

"My fate will be my own once more. You will not touch either of us-uh." She would, but he would make it as difficult as possible. The Dutchman must have a captain, and once you are part of the crew, you are part of the ship.


	23. Chapter 23

She was not on the ship. He had searched from inside the walls, even daring to check inside the Captain's cabin. It was horribly messy, and completely lacking of whom he searched for. He did wonder though where he could leave a message for her so that she would be the one to see it, and not a bumbling Jack Sparrow. It occurred to him that she might have been staying in the cabin with Sparrow, might have even given in to his charms. He truly hoped not, instead choosing to believe she had tried to kill him at least twice.

He then wondered where she would spend most of her time. It bothered him that he had no idea when he racked his brain. Did she prefer it belowdecks? In the hold? Hanging upside down from the rigging? He did not know. From inside the mast, he looked over the great black ship, attempting to rule out where or where not she might prefer to stay.

A noise from above had him pull farther into the mast, so as not to be spotted. After a minute of no other noises, he first poked one tentacle out, then another, until his face was once again sticking out from the mast. He glanced upward to see that some of the rigging had knocked against the mast, creating the noise. Above, he could make out the shape of the Crow's Nest where he had stolen her all those moons ago.

Would she go there? While he had watched the Pearl, he had seen she had taken up position there much more often than anywhere else. She would go there, he guessed. And now, so would he.

He phased up through the mast until he emerged through the wooden planking that made up the floor of the platform. Kneeling down, he gently set a small bag down, and with a knife carved a single word next to it. She would find it, he hoped, and know what to do. Then and only then he might see her again.

With a sigh, Davy Jones phased back onto the Dutchman and walked directly into one rat-man.

The rat-man was not pleased.

/

When Barbossa's nose began gushing blood, it had taken him only a moment to leap at Cass, attempting to make every bit of her that he could reach bleed. It took Jack, Ragetti, and a lot of yelling from Elizabeth to pull him off of her. She, however, was having a grand time, not having sustained any injury whatsoever from the fight. None of the other Pirate Lords seemed to notice as Jack left the enraged Barbossa with Pintel and Ragetti and dragged Cass from the room.

"What did I say about making a mess of things," Jack bellowed as soon as they were outside.

Smirking, Cass said nothing.

"Go back to the Pearl, and stay there, savvy?" Her smirk turned to a frown, and the frown to a glare.

"Only once I get a new sword."

"I'll get ye a sword!" He looked almost as angry as when he had shouted at Gibbs while being rescued from the Locker. Cass did not particularly care. Barbossa wanted to release Calypso, who had made her life a challenge enough already. With her released, Cass would not know freedom or life without pain again.

"Do ye know what is at stake here?" She spoke softly, but it was very clear that she was more dangerous now than when she was yelling.

Well, clear to everyone but Jack. "What? Yer 'relationship' with Jones? He doesn't love ye, lass! If anything, he hates ye! The scars on your back, your hardened heart, your trip to the Locker... Those are all signs! He would kill ye if he didn't think he could get something out of ye!"

"And ye are any better? Do you care how I feel about the whole matter? Or am I equip to all the filthy wenches, and am simply something to procure?" She stepped closer to him, seething. Though he was taller than her, her presence alone seemed to make up for the lack of height. "If that despicable goddess is released, I will be tortured endlessly, or killed and then tortured endlessly. I am like you, Jack. I want to stay alive a day longer, and a day after that, for the rest of my life. I want to have a life! Just like you wanted the Heart to save your own skin, I want the pieces and any way to release her destroyed." As she spoke, all the pain she had had locked away suddenly flooded her sences. She did want to live, and not just for herself. The crew if the Black Pearl, Jack, Elizabeth... They could all go on without her. But who was on Jones's side, save for her? She could not leave him to die, and deal with Calypso on his own. She hadn't even gotten to be with him long. "I... I... I ne-need to li-live."

She hated herself for being so weak. She hated herself for letting the tears fall, for letting herself feel again. She could not afford it, not now of all times. This heartlessness protected her, keeping her in It's protective grasp while everything around her crumbled. She hated her weak knees, especially as they gave way. She hated that she was not strong enough yet to bear this burden, and yet loved the burden all the same.

Luckily, Jack was there to catch her before she stumbled and hit her head. Just as he had on the first day they had met, he held her quivering body close. He had not understood what stress she had been under, and still did not. He saw her way if dealing with it, blocking out reality and her own feelings. He saw that she had hardened herself to the point that only something from the inside could shatter her, and yet the cracks were there. They had always been there, though she had patched them with her loss of feeling as best she could.

He remembered how fearful he had been since Bootstrap's visit, since he had remembered that his debt was now coming to be due. He had known for a few weeks, but at least knew his death would be quick and relatively painless. It was either that or serve aboard the Dutchman, which was definitely the worst option. He wondered how long Cass had known she would die. To be worried sick over that, as well as attempting to bear the burdens he and so many others had placed on her shoulders, it was enough to drive one mad. And he had not even taken into consideration her feelings for the cursed captain. With all of this in his mind, he was surprised she had held out this long. Had he not hurt her as well, first laying his want of her on her shoulders, than his anger at her choice, and then his dismissal of her in general? She had needed someone, and he had been gone. Then he had not even thought of her for days on end, as if she was a constant that would always be there.

The girl he held in his arms had taken shelter where she could find it, and bottled up everything else. This inability to stop her fate from unfolding was the last stone to break her back, though the rest if her was slowly crumbling as well. Not in heart this time, but in mind. A pice of it had been taken while she was aboard the Dutchman, and another while in the Locker. Cass was loosing her mind. This time, it would be he who saved her, just like the first time.

The first time. How had he forgotten? The girl had started off as a wench who had been taken against her will, then left behind by her one hope of leaving that life behind. She had become determined to catch the ship, which she did. He had comforted her there, saved her from her life, though he was the one to leave her first. She had taken that chance and built herself up agin, just to be taken by the Dutchman where she was promptly shattered. He had no idea what had happened to her, other than she had been beaten and whipped, and he only knew that because of the holes in the back of her shirt.

Those tears that now soaked his shirt, that stained her face, they were natural. A thought struck him, when he thought of both Cass and Jones, and how they were at least a bit similar. Once, Jones had loved, and loved so much that he had become vulnerable. Calypso had exploited that, and he had cut out his heart. Now, Cassandra had dared to love, and her heart had been ripped out for it. These two heartless people, they had once loved too much.

Cass's silent tears subsided, though she did not move. Jack kept his arm around her shoulders, and that was how they sat for what felt like ages. "I am sorry. I-"

"Nothing to apologize for. No one is invulnerable, love."

Cass shook her head. "I have to be, though! I just have no idea where I am doing with my life. Now to have those men want to release the vary thing that will ultimately end it..."

"No one knows they are on the right path until they start walking on it, love." He squeezed her shouleds, looking down at her face pressed to his chest. "Now come on, pick yourself up. Dry your eyes, and walk on, just as you always have. This time, I will walk with ye, savvy?"

She looked at him sadly. "Friends, at least?"

He stood, brushed off his trousers, and extended a hand to help her up as well. "Friends. Now go, find herself a new sword, the go back to the Pearl. I suspect this meeting will not last much longer, not with how things are going." She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he was too fast. "I will fight to not release her, and I suspect a good deal of the Lords will be with me in this, more if I pay my debts to them."

She snickered. "Barbossa-"

Jack reached into his pocket and brought out a familiar bag of coins, though this time it appeared to be three times as big. "Is not as vigilant as he ought to be at his age. Besides, if it comes down to it, I give them the location of Isla de Muerta." He opened the bag and pulled several silver coins out. "Take this in case you can't nick whatever it is you want. Possibly get some new clothes as well."

She shook her head. "I can't take this."

"And yet you will." His voice was firm, and so she did what any pirate would do. She took it. "Now get going now, some air will do ye good." She smiled, and he returned the gesture before once again entering the small shack that served as the meeting ground for the Brethren Court.

/

The air around her smelled of salt, fire, and rum. Aboard the Black Pearl, Cass had not been a particularly avid rum drinker, and had not had the time nor the ability to drink aboard the Dutchman. She had had some while in Tortuga, but after leaving the whoring business, she had preferred to be sober, and therefore aware. However, the night she had taken her first customer, she had preceded to drink heavily and lock herself in her chamber. That had not been a night she wanted to remember, and so she didn't.

Now, she saw no reason not to at least get a bit while she was here. There was a relatively busy shop set up in the hull of an old ship selling pints, and while the bartender was not looking, she took one from the counter that he had just been refilling. Everyone there was too drunk to see her leave, and the bartender simply thought the man who had wanted it refiled had already taken the tankard back. That was, until the man came up demanding his drink, and a fight began shortly after. Of course, Cass was already in a clothing shop a bit farther down, so she didn't see the chaos she had created.

She took a small stack of cloth that was laid out on a table and left to go find the last thing she was here for.

There did not seem to be a singe sword shop anywhere where she was. She had been sipping from her tankard the entire time, only now to find it empty. She supposed it was for the best, as she had begin humming to herself a bit ago. That did remind her that she could return to the ruckus and take a sword from anyone there. It was only when she got there did she get to see the fight she created.

She stepped in, keeping to the shadows. No one seemed to notice the strange girl excepts one man, who saw her dart away with his sword in her hand. He in turn threw a punch at the man next to him and took his sword. This man had taken the sword from an old foe, and was not eager to part with it. Soon, Cass was forgotten, and the fight reached a new level. From the doorway, Cass snickered and shook her head before walking down the wooden pathway once again.

The lower down the emended spire of ships she got, the more people crowded the streets. She attempted to shove her way through a gable of prostitutes, keeping her eyes on her feet. She did not want to see them eying her over and tittering to themselves. And yet, one of them stepped in her way, a winning smile on her face. "What happened to yer hair, love?" She gestured at the strange fin that had taken the place of her hair with long, clean nails. Cass couldn't remember when the last time her nails had not had dirt under them had been.

"As if it is your business to know," she grunted and tried to shove past, only to have a clawed hand grab her shoulder. The wench was still smiling.

"Ah just want to know, darling!"

What was the harm in roughing them up a bit? She didn't have to tell them everything, just enough. "I served aboard the Flying Dutchman," she said, a but louder than intended. The whore stumbled back, as if Cass had hit her. Cass did a little courtesy before walking off once again. Hopefully she hadn't caused too much trouble.

When she got back to the Pearl, she went first to Jack's cabin, where she searched for a spot on the port side that she could leave the small amount of coins. She settled for pulling a book from the shelf on the starboard side and slipping the coins between the pages before putting it under the small cot on Jack's side. She also deposited the cloth she had taken there, simply to examine it. One turned out to be a white shirt that had needed a tear repaired, what with the black stitches standing out clearly on the side of the arm. The other was a set of brown breeches, with similar patchwork done on the front.

In her new clothes, Cass returned to the place she found herself returning to more and more often. After swinging her leg over the railing, her foot went out from under her as she slipped on something laying on the floor. It skidded to a stop against one if the legs holding the railing to the planking while Cass groaned and fell over the side and onto the platform of the Crow's Nest. Already the fabric of her new breeches was ripped, having caught on the railing as she fell. Angrily, Cass grabbed the small pouch, wanting to know what had caused her such a misfortune.

When she opened it, her eyes went wide. A silver heart lay in her palm, the face if a woman with crabs claws etched as the design on the front. Noting the hinges, Cass opened it. The music that came forth made tears come to her eyes, though she blinked them back. The music was the familiar sad tune that he had always played on the great organ on the Dutchman. The gift could have come from only one man. A smile lit her face as she sat down, only to have her fingers brush against a carving she had not noticed on the ground. Her pain from her fall fogotten, she felt around until she saw the carving in the light. One word had been etched into the wood, and at first she had no idea why it had been carved there.

Why would Jones ask for a Parley? How had he even gotten here in the first place? The questions filled her mind, spinning around and around to the tune of the music that was still playing. Did he mean for her to call a Parley and discuss the battle before it was fought? It was the only reason that came to mind, yet it made no sence. Was the battle to come quicker than she thought? That would mean that Beckett's forces, as well as the Dutchman were...

"Just outside Shipwreck Cove," she said out loud.

/

After recovering from his bloody nose, Barbossa climbed up on the table and fired his pistol into the air to call attention to the fighting pirates. Slowly the noise died down, and the fighters climbed off the table. "It was the First Court what imprisoned Calypso! We should be the ones to set her free. And in her gratitude, she will see fit to grant us boons," he bellowed just as Jack entered the room once more.

"Whose boons? Your boons? Utterly deceptive twaddle-speak, says I," he replied in much the same tone.

"If you have a better alternative, please, share," Barbossa said sarcastically, hardly able to keep his eyes from rolling.

Jack did have an idea. Not to let the damned goddess loose once more where she would most certainly destroy everything worth fighting for. Then again, they could not simply barricade themselves in Shipwreck Cove. "Cuttlefish." To the strange looks he got, he simply nodded and said 'Aye'. "Let us not, dear friends,forget our dear friends, the cuttlefish." He began circling around the table, pausing at each Brethren member to make his point known. "Flipping glorious little sausages. Pen them up together, they'll devour each other without a second thought. Human nature, isn't it? Or... Or fish nature. So, yes, we could hole up here well-provisioned and well-armed." He put his hands on Mistress Ching's shoulders, giving her credit for the idea, to which her crew members reached for their swords. Jack quickly backed off. "Half of us would be dead within the month. Which seems quite grim to me, any way you slice it. Or..." He made his way to Jocard, but was blocked by a large muscled man. He tried to slip past, Finally succeeding with a grunt. "As my learned colleague so naively suggests, we can release Calypso, and we can pray that she will be merciful. I rather doubt it. Can we pretend she's anything other than a woman scorned like which fury hell hath no? We cannot. Res ipsa loquitur, tabula in naufragio. We are left with but one option. I agree with, and I cannot believe the words are coming out of me mouth... ...Captain Swann. We must fight."

"You've always run away from a fight!" From the other end of the table, Barbossa yelled, causing all the heads to turn from Jack to him.

"Have not!"

"Have so!" With each argument, all those assembled looked to the one shouting.

"Have not!"

"Have so!"

"Have not!"

"You have so, and you know it!"

"Have not, slander and calumny! I have only ever embraced that oldest and noblest of pirate traditions." That turned out to be running away, as it turned out. "I submit that here now that is what we all must do: We must fight..." He left a dramatic pause in the middle of his sentence for emphasis. "...to run away."

"Aye!" The majority of them agreed.

"As per the code, an act of war, and this be exactly that, can only be declared by the pirate king," Barbossa said.

"You made that up," Jack replied.

"Did I, now? I call on Cap'n Teague, keeper of the code." Jack's eyes widened at that name. He hadn't seen his father in quite a long time, and was not planning on starting now. He shrank back into the shadows instead.

"Sri Sumbhajee proclaims this all to be folly! Hang the code. Who cares a...?" Sri Sumbhajee's assistant suddenly toppled over, a bullet in his head and a hole in his skull to match it. No one jumped, but they stared at the direction the shot had come from.

Teague stood in the doorway, blowing the smoke from the pistol away from his face. "Code is law." Jack had picked the wrong shadows to hide in, and was now in the path of his father. "You're in my way, boy." Jack quickly scurried out of the way, finding some new shadows.

Two very old men followed shortly behind, carrying between them a massive book, bound with metal fixings and a very I

Sinister looking lock. "The code." Teague whistled, and a dog bounded up the stairs, a key in his mouth. There was some muttering from Pintel and Ragetti, to which he replied, "sea turtles."

He flipped a few pages backward, then traced through the lines with one knarled, ringed finger before coming to whatever he was looking for. "Ah. Barbossa is right."

Jack didn't believe it. "Hang on a minute." He shoved Teague out of the way to see for himself. ""It shall be the duties, as the king, to declare war, parley with shared adversaries..." Fancy that."

"There has not been a king since the First Court," Chavelle pointed out. "And that's not likely to change."

Teague agreed.

"Why not," Elizabeth asked from the other end of the table.

"See, the pirate king is elected by popular vote," Gibbs explained.

"And each pirate only ever votes for hisself," Barbossa added.

"I call for a vote!" Jack said loudly. Behind him, Teague walked into a corner and sat, playing a guitar and ignoring the rest of them.

All the pirates gathered said their names aloud, all except Jack. "Elizabeth Swann." The room broke out into a fight, all demanding that he instead vote for them instead. Elizabeth simply was surprised.

"What?" Even from the other end of the table, Jack could hear her.

"I know. Curious, isn't it?" At the continued argument of the crowd, Jack said the only thing that might silence them. "Am I to understand that you lot will not be keeping to the code, then?" Immediately, the room went silent as Teague's head shot up and the string of his guitar broke.

"Very well," Mistress Ching was the first to concede, though had also been the first to protest that Jack vote for her instead. "What say you, Captain Swann, king of the Brethren Court?"

Elizabeth already had her mind made up, as Jack had known. "Prepare every vessel that floats. At dawn... we're at war."

Sri Sumbhaje himself stood this time, and in a voice much higher and squeakier than any had predicted, yelled, "And so we shall go to war!" Jack wished. Cass had been there to hear it. She would have laughed.


	24. Chapter 24

Though many of the Pirate Lords had begun leaving, Jack lingered behind in hopes of speaking to his father. After all these years, he was surprised that he had not asked the older pirate for advice. He had, after all, done al much as he had, if not more. Teague had not moved from the corner, where he sat, peacefully strumming his guitar. Jack stood there awkwardly, not sure how to begin this conversation. It had been a long time since he had spoken to his father, and they were not on the best of terms as of the present, in fact they hardly ever were.

Thankfully, Teague took care of the problem, glancing up at his son with a blank stare. "What?"

"You've seen it all, done it all. You survived. That's the trick, isn't it? To survive?" He tried to mask the real meaning of his question by being rather vague, but it was wasted on Teague.

"It's not just about living forever, Jackie." He cringed at the nickname, one that everyone seemed to use when either insulting him or making fun of him. "The trick is living with yourself forever." Jack nodded, understanding. He could not stab the heart of Davy Jones, even if it meant his own immortality. Though a pirate, he had to admit he cared too much about Cass to be able to live with that decision to rip her chance at hope from her. Though he pretended that was the whole reason, it was also in part to the fact that he didn't want to have to watch his back all the time, especially if that meant he count no longer have his rum. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and should he kill Jones, he was sure to earn the scorn of Cass, and already the insanity growing in her eyes proved that she would scour the earth until she found him, and she would always be looking. Nay, it was safer to just not kill him and attempt to negotiate. Or just run away and find a different way to immortality. The charts had shown the location of the Fountain of Youth... He might need to invest some time on that.

"How's Mum?"

Teague held up a shrunken head, one that might have in it's past life resembled his mother. As it was all green, shrunken, and ugly, it obviously didn't. Even with the slight look of disgust on his face, Jack managed a quick "She looks great!" before darting out of the room.

/

"You did what, exactly?"

The rat-man, the bucket-man, and Jones all stood in the bucket-man's cabin. Though many a man might have been frightened of being in the situation, Jones was attempting to keep a smile off his face. He was about to see Cassandra again, and as soon as she called the parley, these men would have no way of stopping it.

Behind him, the doors opened and the Turner whelp entered. "You requested my presence, Lord Beckett?" Jones felt the urge to stab him repeatedly in the stomach with a sword. And yet he had been yelled at for that already once, and the bloodstain on the carpet marked where the annoying naval officer had fallen.

"Yes, Turner I did. It seems that, despite our best effort, Jones is still a loose cannon and does not understand how to obey commands!" He felt a bit offended. Yes, he knew how to obey commands, but when you are bring commanded by a man much shorter than you whose name reminds you of the word 'bucket', as well as the fact that you did not want to, you make one very uncooperative Davy Jones. "Jones has instructed someone onboard the Black Pearl to call for a parley when our armada is in sight. This of course means that they will know we are here, and therefore depend more on Sparrow's bargain."

"What else have you been hiding from me-uh? Secret meetings with Sparrow-uh? The possible release of Calypso-uh? Her return from the Locker-uh?" Beckett shook his head, and Jones rolled his eyes. He could have used the small shred of hope, knowing she was alive and hopefully well all those days when he was forced to do as Beckett commanded.

"As I have said numerous times, nothing of any importance, at least to you."

"So will be be honoring their request?" Turner, as usual, seemed to have his own agenda, now having been reunited with his father. And as usual, Beckett did not pick up on it.

"If only to allow Jones to attempt to kill Sparrow one last time, yes, we will." Jones mentally did a jig. For once, things seemed to be looking up, even if there was a was upon them. "And yet, that does not seem to be the reason behind his uncalculated actions. Care to share?"

Jones laughed, the first time in what felt like ages. As if he would tell them! All they had ever done was seek to hurt him, use him, just as She had done. No, he would not tell them about Cassandra. Then again, she might be able to hold her own with her blind rage against these men. He doubted it, though he hardly knew anything about her. "Do ye honestly expect for me to tell ye? Jack Sparrow is not the only one I would see dead-uh!" No, these men would die first.

Turner did not seem to understand, nor did Beckett. Rat-man, however, seemed to catch on. Perhaps there was a chance he could learn to think for himself yet. "I was under the impression you were ailed with us," he stated.

"Only because you have forced me-uh. I am my own side."

Beckett shook his wigged head. "Then you stand alone, should you should find a way to escape the EITC."

And yet, he would not be alone. Cassandra would fight by his side.

/

"Cass!" Said girl looked up from scratching at the railing with her fingernail to see Elizabeth climbing aboard, a man she had not seen before climbing after her.

"Oh hello," she replied cheerfully. From the redness of her eyes, Elizabeth could tell she was not as happy as she might try to act, but let the matter go. She thought that Cass might like to meet the man who now stood behind her, wig stuck firmly on his shaved head. That was how wigs were worn: one had their head shaved and then had a white wig glued on to their scalp. Norrington was no different, though he wished his hair would grow back much quicker.

"I have to talk to you, but I thought you might want to meet this man. James, this is Cass. She has also been aboard the Dutchman, and may share a few opinions with you." Truthfully, Elizabeth hoped that James would somehow be able to pull her friend out of the chasm of sadness she always seemed to be in. She knew that James' situation aboard the horrid ship would be much different from Cass's, though she hoped that somehow their shared understanding would help her regain some of herself.

By the light that seemed to spark in the other woman's eyes, she knew she had done something right. "I do need to speak to you on a rather urgent matter, but I think this conversation will take priority." Cass smiled, James looked impassive, and awkwardly Elizabeth nodded a few times before leaving them alone.

Cass was the first to speak. "How is Jones?"

James seemed to come to a conclusion rather quickly. "That was what she meant, that you did not suffer on that wretched ship?" Cass laughed shrilly.

"I lost me mind, me heart, and most of me flesh. I would say, out of the two of us, you faired the best, aye?" There was a small hint of anger at her way if speaking, as she sounded quite a bit like Jack Sparrow. Of course, she had spent much time around the man, so it had sort of rubbed off on her.

"Ah." James was a bit flustered at her response to his thought that she and Jones somehow had something between them other than a vast sea. He was right, though he did not know it. Cass was quite fine with that, as so far the ones who knew seemed to shun her. Either that or want to kill her, in Calypso's case. "Well, I believe he is well, though frustrated at being controlled by the Company, as well as the potential release of Calypso."

Cass's eyes shot up from where she had returned to pulling small splinters from the railing. "He knows, then? Barbossa intends to release her. If he escapes the Company, then her release will render him significantly less-free." Those words borough him back to the truce between them. He had said he would attempt to help free Jones if he did the same. If anything, James Norrington was a man of his word. "And I feel like I know your face, somehow."

"I am not sure how that would be possible. We have never met."

Cass stuck out her hand in his direction. "Cassandra Evens. Everyone seems to call me Cass though."

He shook her hand stiffly. "James Norrington." Her eyes widened.

"Commodore?" It was his turn to widen his eyes.

"How did you know?"

"You were in the brothel when Jack was attempting to round up a crew. He used me as a shield from you, then you joined the crew, and I did too." He vaguely recalled the scene through the fog that accompanied the drunken stupor he had not wandered from in his time in the wretched port. Another image, a bit more clear, surfaced as well, this one being of a screaming woman, tears streaming down her face as she broke down at Sparrow. This was her? She seemed... At least much more pulled together, but there was something else. Something in her eyes, something off. She said she had lost her mind...

"Barbossa wishes to release the goddess?" She nodded.

"We must stop it. At least, I will, if you will not."

James nodded. "Which means the removal of Barbossa. Can you manage it?"

She grinned. "I've returned from the locker, I've faced hell on a ship, I've been cursed to agony and death, and I know the sea devil himself. This will be child's play." With that unnatural glint in her eyes, and the look of pure enjoyment at the prospect of killing, he could picture her with a scythe and a black cloak, reaping souls alongside Jones. Did she know how similar she and the fish-man were?

"Good. Strike tomorrow, before he can even make a move." Barbossa was a rather excellent swordsman, and this girl in front if him was an old bar wench. She stood next to no chance, but he could use that anger to accomplish the means of his bargain. There was definitely anger in this equation, as he could tell.

"My pleasure. Goodnight," she said as she walked in the direction of the stairs to the belowdecks. He watched her, and curiously she did not descend to the crew's hammocks, rather began climbing the rigging of the mast. He shrugged and went to find Elizabeth. Cassandra had definitely lost her mind.

/

The next morning, Jack poked Cass awake. She had been having a rather pleasant dream about jumping up and down on a feather mattress underwater, and yet her dream self seemed to always be pushed off course by a pressure on her arm. That turned out to be Jack's finger, which she grabbed and bent backwards before she knew who it was that was bothering her.

"Oi! Let go! I thought ye might like to know we have the armada assembled, and have made it outside Shipwreck Cove. If our sources are correct, Beckett ought to be here soon." There were shouts from below, and Jack looked over the railing of the Crow's Nest to see Ragetti waving franticly at him. "That would be them, then."

Cass shot up, her back a bit stiff from sleeping on the planks curled up for so long. "Jones told me to call a parley."

Jack's eyebrows rose. "Jones, love, is on the Dutchman. Over there." He pointed to the ships now appearing on the horizon.

From her pocket, Cass pulled the locket and scooted away from the carving in the wood. "This was left by this, which clearly says 'parley'. Therefore, we must call a parley." Jack sighed.

"Let us just go down to the deck, aye?"

Frustrated, Cass threw herself down the ropes faster than she had ever done before. "The enemy is here! Let's take them," Marty said from behind her. Slowly, the rest of the armada emerged from the fog, and the cheering and brandishing of swords faded. Remembering her job, Cass slowly came up behind Barbossa, who was looking a bit unnerved by the sheer numbers of the armada. Baring her teeth, she slowly drew her sword, which felt so much better in her hand than the other one. As fast as she could, she brought it swinging at neck level, ready to decapitate the man in front of her. He, however, had reflexes and peripheral vision, and quickly ducked, unset hang his own weapon to return the attack.

"You will not release Calypso!" Her voice was dangerously low, underlying currents of anger and hate giving him no reason to doubt that she would have killed him had she had the chance.

"I must, Cassandra." With that, he simply brought the hilt of his sword down on her temple, knocking her unconscious. The last thing she heard was Cotton's parrot squawking overhead to abandon ship.


	25. Chapter 25

Jack couldn't believe that he would have to leave her there in his quarters while he and the other two left with him for the parley with Beckett. It was she who had told him to call it, or rather Jones telling her to call one. There was no doubt in his mind that Jones planned to be there, and planned to see Cass there as well. However, the girl in question was lying passed out on his cot, breathing tranquilly. He had seen that her sleep as of late had been fitful. A few nights ago he had heard noises from above and went to see her thrashing around in her sleep. This calmness that had washed over her sleeping form was a relief to her, so awakening her was out of the question. She needed sleep, especially if they would be fighting in a few hours.

With one last look, he closed the door softly and joined Barbossa and Elizabeth on the longboat bound for the slip of land between the two armadas. No one spoke on the way there, as Elizabeth was too nervous as to what would happen, Barbossa was thinking about something, and Jack was hoping that when Cass awoke, she would not detonate his cabin. As neither the King or the other pirate Lord took up the oars, Jack was given the duty if rowing them across the small stretch of water to their destination. The monkey that Barbossa had so kindly named after him was perched on the other man's shoulder, hissing at him occasionally. If Jack hadn't been rowing, eh would have shot the undead bugger. Maybe he would have missed and hit Barbossa in the back of the head. He had seen Cass's assassination attempt, as well as how it had failed. He couldn't blame her for wanting to kill the man.

As they reached the spit if land, and as the hull of the small boat ground against the sand, Jack kept out to see three figures standing at the other end. One of them, the one on the right side, was definitely Jones, and he was standing in a bucket. The one in the middle was short, meaning he must be Beckett. The one on the left, he could not identify, though it might have been Mercer or some other EITC imbecile.

Squaring his shoulders, he began striding towords them, his two companions matching pace and keeping their advance in a relatively straight line. They stopped when there was about three yards between the two opposing parties, each taking it's turn to glare at the other. Elizabeth stared furiously at the short man in front of her, who's face remained impassive. Barbossa sneered at Jones, who was looking slightly disappointed and more than a bit angry. Jack pretended he wasn't there. In front of him, Will stared at Elizabeth, which Jack thought rather typical of the whelp.

"You be the cur that led these wolves to our door," Barbossa stated, a slight tone of anger in his voice.e seemed to be making a more conscious effort to seem pirate-y, Jack noted. Beckett still remained impassive, his white powdered wig looking just as bland as his countenance.

"Don't blame Turner. He was merely the tool of your betrayal. If you wish to see its grand architect, look to your left." Jack sighed inwardly, knowing the truth would come out eventually. Now all that was left was to deflect as much if the blame onto everyone around him and escape the accountability of his actions.

Barbossa and Elizabeth glanced at him sidelong. "My hands are clean in this." He glanced down at said appendages, noting the dirt under his fingernails and the rough patches of skin that came from working a ship. "Figuratively."

The whelp did most of the work for him after that. "My actions were my own and to my own purpose. Jack had nothing to do with it."

"Well spoke. Listen to the tool!"

Finally, Elizabeth spoke. "Will, I've been aboard the Dutchman. I understand the burden you bear, but I fear that cause is lost." His eyebrows raised slightly. He didn't know she had been aboard the Dutchman. Did she know about Jones's relation to Cass, or was everything still up in the air, as it was for almost everyone?

"No cause is lost if there is but one fool left to fight for it," the whelp said with a glare.

"I believe it was said that only three filthy pirates were to attend this gathering," Beckett stated, some disgust in his voice.

Jack looked around, as if somehow another pirate had showed up behind him or next to him. "There are only three of us, mate."

"Then who was it that is coming ashore now?"

/

Cass woke with a start, almost hitting her head on the bedpost. She was in the captain's cabin, and her head was still fuzzy and spinning. She shook her head slowly, as to not let the pain get to her too much. Slowly, ever so slowly, she slid from the cot, which smelled horridly like Jack. Shaking herslef slightly, she strode from the room to knock him and Barbossa unconscious.

Neither were in deck. And yet, Pintel was, and he told her they had already left for the Parley. It took a minute for her to process it, but when she had, the fuzziness was banished from her head, replaced by anxiousness and anger. She was going to see Davy Jones.

Without a second thought, she kept over the side of the ship, diving into the water less smoothly than she would have liked. The seawater bit at her eyes and the few scratches and scrapes she had procured over the past few days. Her muscles strained, sore from having been worked so hard over the past month. The thought of the reunion kept her going, her feet kicking strongly and her arms paddling.

The sand below her was getting closer, and she rose to the surface of the sea to take a much-needed breath before diving down again. She was faster underwater than above where the wind could get to her. A few moments later her feet touched the sea bottom, the sand parting in circles for her booted feet. As quickly as she could, she slogged to shore, dripping head emerging first before her soaked torso and sloshing boots. She could see the figures at the end of the sandbar, she could even distinguish the vague figure of Jones. A grin broke apart her face and she broke into a sprint, the wind somehow cool as she ran, until she nearby collided with Jack.

She stepped to his left, bobbed a sarcastic courtesy at the man who must have been Beckett, then fixed her eyes on the monstrous face of Davy Jones. She was still grinning, and she hoped that in that minute she did not appear the insane woman she though she must.

"That would be Cass," Jack said. Apparently her quick transit between the Pearl and the meeting ground had been seen, and her identity questioned. Jack looped an arm around her shoulders, which she attempted to shrug off. Jack had none of that, gripping her ever tighter. Cass elbowed him in the ribs.

"Rather unintelligent one she is, is she not?" Beckett was looking smugly at Jack, whereas Jones was glaring at him with enough hate to make any man cringe. Of course, Beckett couldn't see said glare, so he was not cringing.

"Damn ye, ye greedy bastard," Cass replied easily.

"Such language from a lady! No wonder you like her, Jack." Cass shook her head. She was no lady. Never had been, never planned to be. Beckett could wear the corsets, she would stick to her bindings, shirts, and trousers. The inky shiny she would use a wig for would be building fires. She assumed they burned rather easily.

"Shut your ridiculous mouth before you say something you will regret, wig-man," Cass said, looking at Jones. His gaze snapped from the short EITC lord to her, their eyes locking. She wanted so badly to reach out for him and see if he was truly there. For so long she had imagined seeing him again. And yet, she could do nothing not without Beckett using her against him. For now, it was enough that he was safe. "Now may we resume this meeting so I can slice the lot of you in half?"

Beckett shook his head. "If Turner wasn't acting on your behalf Sparrow, then how did he come to give me this?" Something, a black box of sorts, dangled from his hand. Every eye aside from her own and Jones's dropped to the object. "You made a deal with me, Jack, to deliver the pirates. And here they are. Don't be bashful. Step up. Claim your reward." He tossed the thing, and on its short flight it almost knocked Cass in the side of the face. She only looked away from Jones to glare angrily at the wigged man.

"Your debt to me is still to be satisfied," Jones suddenly said, obviously still a bit peeved that Jack was alive again. "One hundred years in servitude aboard the Dutchman. As a start!"

"That debt was paid, mate. With some help," Jack said, gesturing at Elizabeth.

"You escaped!"

"Technically, we escaped-"

Elizabeth interrupted what would have clearly been a very hearty debate. Or rather, a violent one. "I propose an exchange. Will leaves with us, and you can take Jack."

"Done," said Will.

"Undone," said Jack, in an offended voice.

"Done," said Beckett in his usual toneless voice.

Barbossa glared at Elizabeth. "Jack's one of the nine pirate lords. You have no right!"

Happily, Elizabeth grinned at him. "King."

Jack bowed mockingly at Elizabeth, obviously very displeased. "As you command, your nibs."

Barbossa yelled something unintelligible, swinging his sword at Jack and severing one if his braids from the rest of his head. The monkey scampered after it, bringing it back to Barbossa. It dawned on Cass that it was Jack's piece if eight, to be used to-

"No!" Cass lunged, attempting to take the braid back. He couldn't release Calypso. She had just been reunited with Jones! Barbossa wrestled with her, attempting to detach her from him. She fought, sharp nails cutting any bit of flesh she could find. She would have bit him, but he looked filthy, and smelled worse.

"Get this cretin off of me!" Finally he was able to detach her and send her to the sand, splayed on her back. Stepping over her, he spoke to Jack in a low voice. The ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing, and the rage that filled her scenes prevented her from caring.

"And the lass too," Jones said quickly. Elizabeth looked shocked, thinking he meant her. Jones scowled . "The other lass. That one-uh." He pointed at Cass with his claw. At this, Elizabeth looked even more shocked. Jack, however, did not look surprised. He, in fact, looked as if he were trying to hide either a grimace or a smirk.

"Why might that be," Beckett questioned. Reaching down, Jack grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to her feet.

"She is part of my crew-uh. Her debt is not yet paid-uh."She stood up shakily, and took short shuffling steps to the other side to stand next to Jones. Jack followed close behind, attempting to stand on the end next to Cass. Instead, he was forced to stand between Beckett and Jones, and Will switched sides yet again.

Jones leaned over, speaking angrily. "Do you fear death?"

Jack cringed, looking more afraid than Cass had ever seen him. "You've no idea." Jones seemed satisfied, and landed away. From the corner of his eye, Jack saw some of the tentacles of his beard creeping in Cass's direction, and when Jones too noticed it, he hastily moved them back to their proper place. Jack heard her snicker, as she had been observing the great captain as well. He saw her shadow move as she edged closer to Jones, though very slowly so as not to attract the attention of Beckett.

"Advise your Brethren, you can fight, and all of you will die. Or you can not fight, in which case only most of you will die," Beckett said superiorly. Cass scowled, as did Elizabeth. Even a feint trace of frustration shadowed Will's contained happiness at seeing Elizabeth again. It turned to anger as the woman beside him spoke.

"You murdered my father."

Beckett's response crossed the line. "He chose his own fate." Cass made a short lunge, but Jones caught her before she got to the wigged man. Barbossa glared at her from the other side, but no one was paying him any mind anymore, unless one was counting Jack the monkey. Then again, even the monkey was paying more attention to Barbossa's hat than the man himself.

Her face full of anger and her eyes flashing, Elizabeth looked more like a pirate than Cass had seen her. "And you have chosen yours. We will fight. And you will die."

"So be it," Beckett said, and turned away. He was not at all nervous, as he knew he had the superior forces. The pirates would not last long, and he might not even need to deploy his armada with the Dutchman on his side. Of course, the Dutchman was not actually on his side, and yet it was as good as.

Jack followed behind Beckett, leaving Jones and Cass standing there. King Elizabeth, a father peeved Barbossa, and a jubilant Will turned and began walking back to the Pearl, not glancing back once. Jones, of course, could not move, as he was stuck standing in a bucket.

It was only once the three figures had gotten out of hearing range that they finally faced each other. "You are alive-uh," he said, looking down at her. She looked so different without all the sealife covering her, though the fin replacing her hair remained.

"I am," she replied, smirking slightly. Fumbling with a small pouch looped around her neck, she withdrew the silver locket. "And I have this, if you want it back."

He shook his head, still a bit shocked she was there. "The tune has meaning I would like to forget-uh. It be better if ye have it-uh."

"But it is such a nice tune, and you play it well. Why not change the meaning instead? It needn't always remind you of her. Why not associate something better with it?"

With his tentacled hand, he reached over and took the music box from her grasp, opening the clasp so the tune began playing. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Cass lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him and-

"Will you please remove your person from Captain Jones so he might return to the Dutchman?" Rat-man's voice was snide, as he now had something to levy against the immortal, and now rather happy Davy Jones.


	26. Chapter 26

Jones' magnificent beard writhed in anger in from of Cass' face, which had contorted into a scowl of the same feeling. She did as commanded by Mercer and he, who had waited so long, it felt, to hold her in his arms was left with naught but air in his grip. And yet he saw that she had not backed down, not yet. She stood at his side, sword in hand, looking very dangerous. The steely anger in her eyes was rivaled by the coldness of those of Ian Mercer, who in turn had also drawn his weapon. The three buckets he was carrying, which were to be used to get Jones back to the longboat and from there to the Dutchman, fell from his grasp. One rolled close enough that Jones could reach out and grasp it, but he didn't move to take it. Instead, he would wait until Mercer was in direct conflict, and henceforth distracted to make a move. That way, he would be able to help Cass, despite his uselessness on land. He was unable to do anything without the damned buckets on land, and would not be able to for the next nine years. Not for the first time did he curse the wretched goddess and her bloody task.

"Do you have a problem?" Her voice was even, schooled almost. She would have no problem killing rat-man, never even think about him after this day. To her, he was simply one more obstacle to be overcome on her way to her goal. Jones did not know how many gauntlets she had taken up in order to be who she was here and now. She had returned from the Locker, attempted to kill a goddess, fully knowing the consequences should she fail. She had faced his ship, as well as himself, and had strengthened herself from the experience. From her grip on the blade in her hand, she had obviously had some training in swordplay, and by the pistol in her belt, she could defend herself relatively well.

On the other hand, when he had first met her, she had been a weak little thing, inevitably not knowing how to defend herself. The little knife she had once possessed had been lost to the sea, and that was the only weapon she had had with her. He supposed he could find it, if it meant that much to her. Somehow, he was sure it didn't, and even if she had the option of having it back she would not want to.

"To why a young wench like yourself would willingly throw yourself at that," Mercer gestured with his sword at Jones, who scowled. "No. Lord Beckett will want to know, however, as the matter now concerns him." He saw her muscles tense, as if she would leap on him at any moment, simply 'forgetting' her modern weapons and tear him up with her nails and teeth. He imagined that he did not look much better, to be insulted on such a low level. Even for Mercer, who Jones knew had no qualms about low, unfair blows, outdid himself. Cassandra, however, must be somewhat used to the jibes, having been around Sparrow for so long.

In less than the time it took to blink she was a step away from the offending man, slapping him soundly across the face. His head whipped to the left, and some spittle flew from his mouth. He stumbled backwards, but did not fall. That was taken care of by a well-placed knee to certain tender parts of his anatomy. Cass, as it turned out, had no problems with low blows either. She stood over the man, who was pitifully curled up and clutching his crotch. She smirked down at him and placed her sword at his neck. "I imagine that problem is rather insignificant now, isn't it?" Mercer managed to nod, and Cassandra sheathed her sword. "Good. Now get up and face me like a man."

Jones picked up the bucket, filling it with the water he had been standing in for far too long. Placing it back on the sand, he took a step, deliberately placing his armored crab-leg in the bucket of water. Now he could almost reach the other two, if he could just reach-

Mercer stood shakily, using his sword to help him up. She was surely mocking him now, letting him back up. Or maybe she was just board, or insulted, or wanting to prove that she could, and would, kill. That much he could tell from her eyes, not her actions. However, the man was much more of a convincing liar than either had anticipated, and Cass only had a moments notice as the pain vanished from his face before he lunged, kicking her legs from under her. Now he stood above her, sword at her throat. The smile was now on his face, but it faded slightly to see it echoed on her face. Her foot, though he could not see it, was touching the bucket Jones was attempting to reach. By kicking it over, Jones would enter the fight. "Why are you smiling at certain death, wench?"

She laughed, and Jones fought back one as well as she kicked over the bucket. "I've been over the edge and over again, crewed a ship of the damned, and done more than you ever will in the face of death. I simply don't care if you run me through with that sword. I also know you will never get the chance."

Despite the shock of what she had just said, Jones brought down his own sword in a clean downstroke aimed at Mercer's spine. The blow was deflected though, but with only enough force to divert the blade. Instead, it cut into his side, creating a wound that would need attention sooner rather than later.

Cass was back on her feet, and as Mercer went after Jones, she attempted to make it as hard for him to move as possible. A three-way sword fight ensured, though Jones felt very upset about not being able to properly fight, what with standing in a bloody bucket and all. Mercer was a very capable fighter, and with Jones handicapped and Cassandra not extraordinarily capable herslef, he stood a chance.

Seemingly knowing this, he did his best to move the fight from Jones and towards Cass, who in turn attempted to push back towards Jones. She kicked at his ribs, and while he was distracted, hurled a handful of sand in his face. As he spat it out, she kicked his legs from under him, pressing his face into the sand so he was forced to breath it in. He threshed, and she rolled away from him, landing on her feet evenly, already ready for the next blow. They were a good distance from Jones now, and he yelled angrily, attempting to hurl the third bucket, which Cass has also tossed to him somewhere in the fight, at Mercer's head.

Luck was with the EITC man, however, as it missed him when he ducked Cass' blow as well. The bucket, still airborne, hit Cassandra square in the temple, knocking her out, her eyes crossed. Mercer prepared to stab her trough the chest, looking rather satisfied. Jones saw what was about to happen and without another thought leapt from the bucket and as far as he could. He landed a few feet from Mercer, and as soon as he touched the ground, pain shot through him. The curse would not kill him, as the Dutchman would always need a captain so the bloody goddess would not have to take the role again. Instead, it would inflict blinding pain until he was on a ship again, or at least standing in a bucket.

Damned buckets. Damned curse. Damned everything, dammit!

His lungs felt like they were eating themselves, sharp little teeth stabbing into them at every intake of breath. His stomach churned, and he worried that he might empty its contents onto his own boots. Well, boot. He didn't really know where the other boot was at the present. His beard writhed, his flesh burned, and his nerves scorched at his every move. Still, he closed the distance between himself and the attacker. His face twitched, and his vision went dark for a moment. With arms strengthened by pain and rage, he hauled the man off of her, bodily throwing him away. He sailed through the air limply, landing on his own arm. A sick-sounding crack issued from said limb as it broke from the impact. Fighting the pain, he stepped forward again, staring down at his enemy. "I will not bother asking if ye fear death, Ian Mercer. You ought to-uh." He drove the blade in his hand into the fallen man's chest, just above the heart. He twisted the blade, causing rat-face to gasp in pain. Jones smiled evilly and left the man to die. Beckett would hear of this, but it would be on his terms.

First, he had to get to his bucket, though. The pain was getting to be a bit annoying.

/

The cool seawater brought instant relief from the gut-wrenching pain, as predicted, and yet his head still rung with it. Every so often he would shake it, his tan tickles fanning out around him like one of those absurd collars all those old, dead scholars and philosophers wore. He had picked Cass up, and had carried her back to his bucket, stumbling very few steps until he reached the glorious blue. He had shifted her limp body of his crab arm, using the other to pick up the bucket behind him. He stood on one foot, only encountering a problem when he must put his weight in his pointed and unstable crab leg. Having no choice, he did so and promptly fell to the scorching sand again, the water from both remaining buckets spilling around him. Agony claimed him once more, and his vision went black.

/

The jolt from the sudden drop woke her from her 'slumber'. For a moment, she had no idea where she was, what had just happened, and who had dropped her. All she knew was that she was now face down in the sand, and in danger of inhaling the grainy stuff if she didn't move, now.

That was exactly what she did, and when she did, she came face to face with one Davy Jones. For a moment, it looked as if he were simply asleep next to her. Then his face contorted, once, twice, thrice, and she was sure that no, he was not asleep. What was more, he was on land. The curse did not allow him to be on land, so either it was his one day to make bearth, or he was in quite a bit if pain. Judging from the buckets, it was the latter. Summoning up her strength, she stood and attempted to haul the great captain to the shallows, which were not but a meter away. She heaved, maybe gaining a centimeter, if that. Frustrated, she kept pulling on his arm, determined to not let him suffer another moment.

An idea crossed her mind: if she threw water on the sand, it would be much easier to pull him along, and might even ease the pain. Quickly she did so, using the buckets that had come in so handy in the last half hour. This time, when she pulled, he moved, sliding down the slight decline until his face was in the shallows. Another tug and he was fully submerged. His chest heaved a great sigh of relief at the vanishing of the pain. Cass kept him slightly floating on his back, as most of him was able to tough the bottom of the sea from this point. Tentatively, she touched his face, feeling his slightly slimy flesh beneath the palm of her hand. "Both you and I know we cannot love, but what love I have is yours," she said, knowing full well he could not hear her if he was unconscious.

The catch was, when he had been submerged into the water, he woke. Feeling her holding him, accepting his appearance, bringing him out of the agony of the curse had made him want to stay 'asleep' for just a while longer, just to be in this place with her. "A very good thing as I do not plan on letting ye leave again-uh." His mind went reeling back to what she had said earlier, about being raped and all. "Especially not until that bastard Sparrow is dealt with."

Cass pretended not to hear the last part, dismissing it as Jones's anger that Jack had escaped the Locker, as well as the debt he owed.


	27. Chapter 27

A few minutes later, Jones kindly transported the two of them back aboard the Dutchman, allowing Lord Beckett the pleasure of finding out that his beloved mercenary was dead somewhere not aboard his ship. Cass wondered if he would figure to look on the beach, and severely hoped he did. She had shoveled quite enough sand onto him to make her tired, and hoped her efforts were decorative to make Mercer look more like the crazed man he was. The mouth full of sand was a good touch, as it made him look as if his diet consisted only of the rough grains.

For all she knew, it was.

She had never seen Jones out of breath, which might have been because she hadn't seen Jones often at all. Even after his exhibition onto dry land, he still looked to be recovering, though he masked it well. She wouldn't have known without picking up on the straightness of his shoulders and the rigidness of his back. Even his beard she could see he was straining to keep in check, the tentacles not writhing as usual, but making short, jerking movements. Se hoped the after effects would pass quickly, as they would not have much time left together as soon as they were seen.

Jones, of course, knew this and planned for it. They had appeared in the crew's quarters, where at this hour no one ought to be. Even if there were anyone there, they would hide themselves when they saw the feared captain. Rightly so, as he would have them flogged for lax duty. They all knew this, and bore the scars for it.

Luckily, for both Jones and Cass as well as the crew, no one was among the hanging hammocks. "Why couldn't we go straight to your cabin?" Cass asked, thinking it would be the safest place for them currently.

"The Heart is there, as well as some of the damnable East India men-uh. Not for much longer-uh." She nodded, understanding.

"And they will not be here?"

"They be too afraid of me crew to venture here. Now tell me, what all has that Sparrow," he spat the name, enraged. "Done to ye?" At her look of confusion, he clarified. "He raped ye, did he not?"

Cass was taken aback. Many things Jack Sparrow had done to here, but raping her was not on that list. The nameless, faceless dead man was responsible for that. She shook her head, not able to speak as hidden, unwanted memories resurfaced. "He has something over your head to make ye lie!"

Had Sparrow been standing there with them, he would have found himself very, very dead. That was Jones' intention to do when he got to the brig, which he set off for immediately. Whatever purpose he might have later, he no longer cared.

"It wasn't him! I swear on it!" He didn't believe her.

"So come nine months, it will not be his ugly face in miniature I will be seeing?" She shook her head.

"I am the perfect whore. I am infertile. No children to claim, no responsibility, nothing after one night. Or at least I used to be."

Davy Jones was shocked, which did not happen often. The last time he had been shocked was when he found his heart missing from the chest, and that had been weeks ago. "What all have ye done?"

She didn't look surprised in the least, though forced apathy became her mask as she stared at a spot just above his face. "Was a wench in Tortuga since I was but seventeen. I stopped that same year, and bartended for the next three. Now here I am." She felt so filthy, saying that out loud, and to him of all people.

Jones managed an 'ah' of acknowledgment. Cass fought not to loose her calm.

A moment of silence passed, but just as Cass opened her mouth, footsteps sounded on the creaky wooden planks. Jones shoved her behind a stack of barrels tied down to the floor. She hit her knee on one of the rusted rings attached to the floor, and felt warm, wet blood well up.

"Captain, I see you have managed to return, though as to why you are down below is a mystery. Care to explain?" The very recognizable voice of Beckett, and Cass' hand cringed in the direction of her sword before she forced herself to stay still and not breathe.

"As captain," he stressed the word, "it is my duty to see this ship run smoothly and do its job."

"And if I were to search the aria, I would not find the wench you brought along?" This time, Cass couldn't contain her anger. It had not been one of her strong points ever, and she assumed that it never would be. Of course, her anger in this particular instance urged her to come out of her hiding place and call Beckett every single derogatory name she knew.

"You will be done with insulting me, you great ass! Why-"

Suddenly a sword was pointed at her throat. "You will do well to remember who is in control here, wench," Beckett said, almost joyfully. Looking at Jones, Cass caught the look he sent, plainly saying 'shut up and stand down'. She did so, backing away and even giving the man a small cutesy.

"As you say, your nibs."

Beckett's scowl deepened, the lines on his face betraying how many times he had had that particular countenance. Cass, however, didn't give him time to reply, as she quickly sheathed her sword and stalked past him. At the last moment, she shouted over her shoulder, "My regards to Mercer." Jones snorted, then attempted to disguise it as a couch. Beckett's glare was turned on him next.

"You will return above decks with my men on your ship and Mercer with you at the helm. Once I signal you, engage the Black Pearl. Be sure to win." Of course he would win. The heart was safe, though not from some, on the ship, and his crew was not killable.

And yet the fact still looked that thy would attempt to release Calypso. He hoped that they would reach the battle before they could accomplish that, and with Sparrow's piece of eight with that idiot Barbossa, they no longer needed him. Jones strode on deck, seeing that Cass had climbed up to the crow's nest already and was watching the small fleet of pirate ships ahead of them. The crew seemed not to have noticed her strange appearance, as they were more focused on getting the ship ready to sail again. Jones took the helm, glancing at the sea and sky around him. All that was left was to wait.

/

"We have to give Jack and Cass a chance," Elizabeth shouted. Her friend had been on edge since it was known that Barbossa planned on releasing the goddess, and by this point Elizabeth knew anything that bothered that girl either meant ill for her or was simply bad for everyone. This was a case when she was not sure which of the two it was, and as she was currently aboard the Dutchman, figuring out her reasoning was impossible, unless she somehow turned into a bird.

Very unlikely.

"Apologies, your majesty! Too long me fate has not been in me own hands!" Once, she might have shrank back when he got in her face as he was now, but the last two years had changed her. No longer was she the frightened governor's daughter, hiding in a closet. Now she was the pirate king, waging a war on the most powerful force on the seas. Barbossa yanked the piece from her neck. "No longer!"

Pintel and Ragetti brought the very subject of the matter over to where they stood, and Barbossa dropped the piece of eight he had taken from her in a broad silver bowl. Barbossa didn't even bother thanking them, but that surprised no one.

"Be there some sort of rite or incantation," an incredulous Gibbs asked.

"Aye. Items to be brought together, done. Items to be burned, and someone must say 'Calypso, I release you from your human bonds.'"

This time it was Pintel who looked incredulous. "That's it?"

"It is said it must be spoken as if to a lover," Barbossa explained, an ugly grin on his face. The crew laughed.

Taking up one of the igniters for the cannons, Barbossa attempted to light the pieces of eight on fire. When it didn't work, he declared in a loud, booming voice "Calypso! I release you from your human bonds!"

It was no wonder the man didn't have a lover. It never was.

Nothing happened, which Pintel duly noted. Surprisingly, it was Ragetti who spoke next. "You didn't say it right!" In a quieter voice, he continued. "You have to say it right." Tentatively, he stepped towards the bound woman, who was glaring at everyone on reach of her. "C-calypso? I release you from your human bonds." The bowl rose into the air, and the contents ignited. Someone behind Calypso pushed her head forward so she would inhale the smoke.

"Tia Dalma! Calypso!" The bowl fell as Will spoke. "When the Brethren Court first imprisoned you, who was it that told them how? Who was it that betrayed you?"

The goddess snarled. "Name him!"

Will surprised them all. "Davy Jones."

She swelled, the ropes falling from her as she grew as tall as the mast, then higher. Elizabeth wondered how long the ship could hold her before it split due to the sheer mass of her. Everyone threw themselves onto the deck, and Barbossa began to speak.

/

"I need to get back to the Pearl," Cass said from behind Jones. He had been watching the water for a wile now, and had not noticed her come down from her post. "I will be back on this ship before long, but I have business aboard that ship. At least, I will attempt to ensure that none of those buggers stabs the heart."

He didn't argue. The light of coming battle was in her eyes, and if she had a plan, all the better. "Koliniko!" He bellowed over his shoulder, and the coxswain hurried to take orders. "Take her back to the Pearl," he gestured at Cass.

"I didn't know-"

"What?"

"Aye!" He looked apprehensive as he stepped towards Cass. She, rolling her eyes slightly, stepped forward and grabbed his arm. A second later the pair of them were gone. Jones turned, for a second watching his crew work. Then he bellowed "Raise Anchor!"

/

"Calypso, I come before you a servant, humble and contrite. I have fulfilled me vow, and now as your favor. Spare meself, me ship, me crew, but unleash your fury on those who pretend to be your masters. Or mine." As Barbossa had been having her held in a cell for the past six days, Elizabeth would have been very surprised if Calypso granted his request. Her smile, however, indicated differently. She looked condescending, lofty, and then-

Then she was yelling at them, in a voice so loud and monstrous it was impossible for anyone but her. The words themselves were unintelligible, but from the shaking of her head and the glower on her face, she assumed she would not me merciful. That, Elizabeth decided, was what Cass was afraid of: Calypso's wrath.

She rose, as she had been bent over slightly in an almost-bow, and saw a figure she did not expect to see: Cass herself was standing there, looking murderously at Calypso. Her fangs, which Elizabeth had not noticed before, were bared as if she were prepared to destroy the goddess tooth and claw if need be. Then the sky was full of falling crabs, and Cass was slicing them with her sword. A figure in the shadows disappeared, and she was not completely convinced she had seen it. Ragetti knocked her over as he ran about with a crab pinching on to his nose, and that was the last of the action she saw before she got up again. By that point, everything had died down, and the goddess was gone. A small pile of crab parts lay around Cass, who was breathing a bit harder than usual.

It seemed that it was only then when people began noticing that Cass was standing among them. Ragetti had the gall to point at her and call her a ghost. She wrinkled her nose and stepped towards them, looking frightening and dangerous. They all involuntarily took a step back.

"Dearest Ragetti, I have been dead before, and would prefer to remain alive for the time being. Is this fine with you?" She seemed to grow a foot, gathering the darkness and shadows around her, just in the way she held herself. Ragetti nodded. "Good! Great, grand, wonderful! I get to be alive again!" As if remembering that the rest of them were there, she whipped around, baring her teeth. "Any of ye have a problem with that?" Even Barbossa was smart enough not to contradict her at this point. She nodded again. "Then get this ship sailing, we have a fight with a bucket!"

"She's right! It's not over!" Elizabeth walked among them, coming to stand at the railing of the ship.

"Our final hope has failed us," Barbossa stated, almost glumly.

In the back, Cass rolled her eyes skyward, to where the clouds had begun to gather. 'That is completly natural,' her face seemed to say.

"We've an armada against us, and with the Dutchman, there's no chance," Gibbs said. Again, Cass rolled her eyes.

"Only a fool's chance," Elizabeth said to herself. Barbossa heard, however, and spoke once more.

"Revenge won't bring your father back, and is not something I intend to die for."

She surprised him. "You're right." She walked away from him, planning her next words carefully. "Then what shall we die for?" She walked towards the crew, who hastily parted for her. "You will listen to me. LISTEN!" She was back at the rail, holding on to a handful of ropes to keep herself from falling. From her vantage point, she could see every face looking up at her. "The Brethren are still looking to the Black Pearl to lead! And what will they see? Frightened bilge rats. aboard a derelict ship? No, they will see free men, and freedom! And what the enemy will see is the flash of our cannons and they will hear the ring of our swords. And they will know what we can do! By the sweat of our brows," she though of Jack, working to keep the Pearl his own. "The strength of our backs," she looked to Will, who had taken a lashing to save his father. "And the courage of our hearts!" She saw Cass, and many turned to see who she saw. The girl who had declared herself heartless, and might as well be, stood there as she said to have courage in her heart. To her surprise, Elizabeth thought she saw the other woman's eyes well up a bit. "Gentlemen, ladies... Hoist the colors."

"Hoist the colors!" Will said, and a few began echoing the cry. Pintel shouted the order, and the men began milling about.

"HOIST THE COLORS! The wind's on our side, boys, that's all we need!"

Cass was no longer stationary at the back of the crowd, but was climbing the ropes to the crow's nest, moving at the same pace as the flag as it was raised upon it's post. She was fast, moving quick enough to prove how many times she had done this same thing and how much skill she had gained.

As she climbed, rain began to fall, stinging her face. Then she was at the crow's nest, with the view of the whole ocean spread in front of her. She saw the Dutchman, and strained her eyes to try to see the captain, but she could not.

It welled up in her throat, first as a cry of desperation and fear, but as it made it to her lips, it turned to rage at having to leave him. It kept changing until it was so achingly sad and yet determined that she felt she might cry. She could feel her scream inside her stomach, and as it made it's burning way through her throat and past her lips. No words were uttered, but it was a battle cry of its own nature. Cass stood there, screaming out to the sea.


	28. Chapter 28

He had truly hoped that she would have succeeded. The rain that began caressing his face proved that she had not, in fact, been able to stop the imbecile Pirate Lords from releasing the goddess. They, of course, were pirates, meaning that they were the most selfish on the seas, as well as the most reckless. There was also the small matter of no one giving a damn about him anymore, but that was no surprise after this long. Having an octopus as a head probably didn't help.

But the girl, Cass, she cared. And now, who knew what her fate was after Koliniko had deposited her on the Pearl? He was sure, with her attitude, she might not have many friends worth protecting aboard the pirate vessel. They might have turned against her, killed her... But no, he would know, wouldn't he? He was the sea! The Locker belonged to him, had his name in front of it! If she had been sent there, he would know. Even further still, she was part of the crew again. She was, in a way, invincible.

Still, with Calypso on the loose, who knew how long that would last? And there was still a battle to be had, and a bucket to dismember. Not to mention a very annoying bird somewhere belowdecks... There was no doubt in his mind that Sparrow had gotten free by now. He was even inclined to let him go, so long as he didn't get caught, and he didn't have to see his face again.

"We are to give no quarter," a lieutenant said. Was this some attempt to boost loyalty to Beckett? He was permitted to kill people, oh joy. He got to kill people, should he choose, that was much better. Taking orders had never been something he fancied.

Ignoring the man, he looked up at the sky, which now had clouded over. The rain drizzled some more, and he wished he could find the goddess and strangle her. Then feed her to the Kraken. Whatever was left of her after that could be sent to whatever ill-humored god had made her. If she ever reformed after that, he would let Cass do her worst. While they were at it, they would throw a magnificent garden party, and Sparrow was NOT invited.

"It will never happen," a soft voice said from the clouds. "You love me too much."

Jones bellowed angrily. "Be gone, woeful harridan-uh!"

"Not until I claim what is rightfully mine," she crooned playfully, then spoke no more.

He yelled again, louder this time. Then the wind brought him something that at once both confused him and invigorated him. A scream, one of a demon enraged, or a frightened dog reached his ears, and it sounded so much like Cass it could be none other. He was too far away to make out any actual words, but something told him that there were not any. It was a simply battle cry: she would spare no one who stood in her way.

He didn't even bother pitying those who would try anyway. They had chosen their fate, and so they would own up to it until the very end.

/

Her throat felt raw, her lungs burned, and she still wished she had a dozen or so Becketts gathered around her so she could mince them. Below her, the crew was busy complaining about the rain, the Dutchman, and the maelstrom that had just formed. She personally didn't care in particular for two of the three, as they were caused by her nemesis.

No, she worried about how long it would take the Pearl to reach the Dutchman so she could begin the manslaughter. By now Jones already knew she had not been successful in stopping Calypso and Barbossa, but that no longer mattered. She was about to be fighting two enemy sat the same time, and hoped to be aboard with people who were more likely to fight with her than against her.

She climbed down from the crow's nest, coming to stand in the brink of it all, then thought better if it. Should they broadside in the middle of the giant whirlpool, she would been in the best position in the crow's nest to board again, as well as hopefully scare some Englishman. Besides, the crew below was likely to be fired on, and she didn't really fancy having shot melded into her flesh.

Sure enough, the Dutchman used the great bow cannons, which hit some of the railing. One man was already a casualty, as he too was his and sent overboard. Cass didn't even have the concentration to wince at his unfortunate fate. Below, Barbossa and Elizabeth were arguing, but over the rushing if the wind, the howling if the sea, and her own adrenaline, she could not hear a word they were saying. She did observe that Barbossa looked more the maniac now than ever, which seemed to be a recurrence every time he led the ship and crew to dangerous, and often deadly, scenarios.

She now had the inclination to shimmy down there and load herself into a cannon, just to get the fight moving faster. Blowing holes in ships was fun, but she preferred using swordplay to destroy a fleet. Not that that would happen any time soon, unless she learned how to fly.

/

He had the heart, but could he do as Teague had said, and live with this decision for the rest of his (hopefully long) life? Would he even have a chance to regret either decision, with either an angry woman after him, or an angry Davy Jones wishing to send him back to the locker again? Probably not. Let the heart go, and risk Jones' wrath at his being alive, or stab the beating thing and let. Cass go though her own personal hell again, after the one 'man' who understood her best was gone? He had seen her first transformation. If she got any more violent, and her last 'real' reason to cling to life was gone, he knew she would throw everything she had into making sure he suffered before he died.

He could also hope that she would turn to rum, and just become a drunk and die of an exploded liver. Not likely, with the history she had. It was much more likely that she would find a ship, or build one if necessary, and hunt his legend down until she had a man nailed down, mainly him.

So which decision could he live with more? He had no intention of giving up the sea and his Pearl, which would be inevitable if he let the squid live. So would he let Cass die for himself to have a chance at the fountain of youth? That might get him immortality long enough to outlast her in battle.

There was simply no good answer. Best to stay uninvolved, he reasoned. With that, he kicked open the door to the cabin to find the ship in chaos.

He was walking, and then he wasn't, because the furious, evil, eldritch face of Davy Jones looked in front of him. His luck had never been so good, he though sarcastically.

"Lookee here, boys, a lost bird-uh!" Cass wasn't beside him, which partially worried him. She could, however, be in the crow's nest, or off harassing the EITC. he doubted either one was the case, knowing the girl too well to think she would have left Jones willingly after finding him once more. She had lost, and gained, too much to simply not be there. "A lost bird-uh that never learnt to fly!"

Some of the crew had gathered, and they laughed and leered at Jack, who attempted to laugh with them. "To my great regret. But!" He held up a finger as some of them, particularly the spiky one, tried to apprehend him. "Never too late to learn, eh?"

Jack had always been rather famous for his escape stunts, and this one he felt was one of the best. He used the chest to release a hook that held the rope he was holding to the mast, causing him to shoot up into the air, swing once, and land on the topmost mast. Sure enough, Cass was not above him, waving cheerily down. In fact, she did not even appear to be aboard the vessel.

To his dismay, Jones used his ability to move anywhere, including inside the mast, to emerge on the mast as well. "The chest! Hand it ov-uh!" He tried to keep from squeaking in terror, and succeeded.

"Where is Cass," he asked instead.

"Back on your precious," he spat out the word, making it sound vile and disgraceful. "Pearl. Now give me the chest-uh!"

"I can set you free, mate," he said in one last effort to not have to fight the frightening man in front of him.

It was clearly the wrong thing to say, and Jones lunged at him. "My freedom was forfeit long ago!" The lines were quickly drawn in his mind: he could see the similarities between Cass and Jones so clearly when he said that. The similarities startled him, and he fumbled his sword slightly, causing him to loose ground when Jones advanced.

Quickly, his instincts kicked in and he was fighting, sword flashing and throwing sharp pellets of rain in every direction with each stroke. He fought hard, as hard as ever, as hard as he had against Will and Norrington, as hard as he had fought against Barbossa, and every for before him. The sword became an extension of his arm, but by no means did that make it gracefull. His movements were blunt, accomplishing their means and then retreating to strike again, all the while his feet attempted to keep him balanced on the slippery log of wood so he did not fall, or even worse, fall spread-eagle and then fall, hurting in that particular place all the while until he fell and snapped his neck.

He had to win this.

Using the chest, he hit Jones square in the face, then took a few steps backward so he could get a hold of the ropes. Jones recovered, as he knew he would, and swung again, making Jack jump back. His next strike was true, however, and Jones' weapon flew from his hand.

"It will be nothing without the key," he said, using one of Jack's own techniques against him. He fell for it, responding to the jibe rather than ignoring it, as he should have done.

"Already have the key," he replied.

Jones, laughing, produced the key. "Oh, that key."

They were fighting again, or rather, Jack was lunging, and Jones was dodging, trying to throw Jack off balance so he would fall. Yet again, Jack had gotten lucky and was able to slice off the tentacle holding the key. He knew Cass would likely kill him for that later, or at least chop off his hair and beard. Jones roared, and shook his great head.

Quicker than expected, he righted himself and, grabbing hold of Jack's sword, snapped it in half with his crab arm. Surprised, Jack yelped, flailed, and fell backward, taking the chest with him. Alarmed, Jones grabbed hold of the chest, and by extension, Jack as well. Angered by this new development, he tried to shake Jack off, to which Jack only held on tighter. Growling, Jones lowered him, then flung him off and across the sail.

Really hoping not to die, Jack grasped hold of a rope, which was attached to Clanker. Of course, Jack didn't know his name, but that didn't mean he didn't have one. Clanker happened to be it, and he happened to not dislike Jack as much as the others. This changed, however, when Jack took his pistol, yelled at him, and knocked him over the head with it, sending him to the deck below. No, Clanker did not like Jack Sparrow after that.

Jones stood, victorious, holding the chest in the air and glaring at it. In a split second, Jack made a decision that he knew he would regret quite soon.


	29. Chapter 29

The masts were almost close enough to each other for her to jump across and land back on the Dutchman. She could see Jack and Jones from her place in the crow's nest, watched as Jack shot his pistol at Jones, and watched as Jones dropped the chest. She bellowed, knowing which side her 'friend' had chosen.

There was still too much space between the two ships for her to make a clean jump and definitely make it, but rage clouded her thoughts, and she jumped no less, sword in hand and ready to gut Jack. Yet, when she did land, by some grace of some god, the man was not in sight. There were, however, far too many men with their alliance vested in the EITC for her taste.

Grinning, she watched as Koliniko threw one man into another, and the two of them fell overboard. She walked up to him, shish-kabob-ed a man who was going to attack him from behind, and kicked him lightly on the back of the leg. He helped nonetheless and turned to face her, almost slicing her head off before he recognized her.

"Crylass! 'Tis bad luck to distract a man when 'es fighting!" She shrugged, ignoring the unsavory nickname.

Instead, she offered her hand. "Dance?"

If anything, Koliniko looked more surprised and irritated. "Go bother the Captain," he mumbled and stabbed another man above Cass' shoulder.

"Come on! You can't be killed, and it would be great fun."

She looked at him with pleading eyes that he knew had no sincerity in them. He had always taken battle very seriously, and here she was wanting to dance as she-

-took her victims. Now that he looked at her, she did look much different, and he had seen her not a few moments before take down a man without hardly trying. Maybe she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Fine." It would add insult to injury for these EITC men that had cost the crew much over the past weeks. He took her hand, which was much cooler than he had expected it to be. She had been released from her debt of servitude last he knew, and now she was back. He would have thought she would have still been human and retained all human attributes, such as warm-bloodedness. Clearly that was not so, or she would not look as she did and would not be as cold as a bloody fish.

She twirled around him and stabbed a man in the stomach, laughing gleefully. Another twirl, a spin, and she was away, bothering another crew member. The process continued until she seemed to simply be dancing all around the ship, killing left and right and still laughing maniacally.

Last he had seen her, she looked for all the world a calm woman, resigned to her fate and yet still determined despite all. Before that, he had seen her die, and before that, she had looked fiercely cruel as she took the fierce whipping. Was that when she had become this... Thing? He shrugged. Now her attitude, as well as her appearance, resembled that of the current crew.

He watched as she walked up behind a particularly young man, tap him on the shoulder, and look at him pleadingly, as if she had been kidnapped by pirates and saw that these 'noblemen' could set her free and return her home. He also saw that she clutched her sword behind her back, shielding it from view. A look of sympathy, then greed, came over the man's face, but before he could so much as move again, Cass had analyzed his coutanance, judged it, and brought her weapon crashing through his gut.

He staggered, looking confused and frightened. Over the wind, Koliniko heard her shout frighteningly "I am a bloody pirate!" Then she was gone again, dancing away with invisible men as she slashed and stabbed, all the while looking as if Yule had come early.

He was distracted from watching her cut through lives as if they were blades of grass by a large, heavy object smashing Hadras' head in and causing hi. To stagger into him, sans head.

Cass, on the other hand, was for all the world looking to be having the time of her life, but in reality her mind was whirling as she calculated each target and the method in which she would destroy them. She was glad that these men, brought up in 'proper' British society, though her a weakling, and therefore underestimated her or thought her a damsel in distress. She used this to her advantage to cut down men, even as they created a fantasy about bringing the lovely girl on the pirate ship home and getting a couple of good, strong sons out of her. She always ended this rather bloodily, but it was their own fault.

At one point, the battle quelled around her, and she stood still, observing the Black Pearl as it's crew fought against that of the Flying Dutchman. She saw Will and Elizabeth, fighting together and shouting at Barbossa. She saw them kiss in the midst of it all, saw new attackers approach them, and watched as Elizabeth stabbed him through the throat and into the wall of the Captain's cabin. She thought of Jones at that moment, and how she so wanted to kill Jack. First, though, she had to find the chest, which meant that she couldn't continue her bloodbath until later.

She was saved from having to find Jack by having him run into her as he attempted to escape from Jones. Jack hadn't noticed it was her, but he was also running as fast as he could away from a very frightening -and very angry- Davy Jones.

It made sense to her that he ought to be running- the sword in his had was snapped in half and useless for just about everything except picking his teeth. It wouldn't do well against an opponent like the Sea Devil, that was for sure. At least Jack had the good sense to run away,so Cass could kill him herself. To her shock, she saw that somehow, half of Jones' mustache was missing, and what remained seemed to be cleanly cut, as if a sword...

She really was going to kill Jack Sparrow, and he would suffer. She might even take all his precious hair off for this. If he lives past this battles.

Someone ran into her again, shoving her in the direction on the two fighting captains, she was satisfied as she slammed Jack to the ground and got him back for his most recent misdeed.

"Oi! Hello lass! I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment, but-" she kicked him in the shin. Behind her, Jones laughed as Jack yelped. "What was that for?"

"You cut off his face! And you said you would help me, but no, I should have known! Nasty! Stupid-" with ever word she kicked out as him or attempted to harm him in some way, throwing pieces of shrapnel and screeching at him.

But Jack cut her off mid-sentence, saying the one thing that might have set her off even more.

"Pirate," he groaned.

She bellowed and attempted to kick him between the legs. She instead kicked the air where Jack had just been, and then watched as swung across to the Black Pearl. Cass looked at Jones, still angry.

"I can understand very well why you hate that man."

Jones laughed. "It-uh makes it-uh easy-uh to when he makes a bloody fool-uh himself." Cass snorted and grinned at him.

"I'm not sure how many times someone has to wrong me for me to just decide people aren't worth knowing any longer," she said sadly.

He raised his fleshy eyebrows. "When there are people worth-uh knowing, let me know-uh." 

"I guess that is the final straw, i'n'it? To just stop caring altogether about people, and then I am truly heartless?" Jones nodded solemnly, the whipped around and stabbed a man advancing on him through the throat.

"Little buggers-uh. What about me-uh?" Again, the raise of the eyebrows.

Cass shook her head. "I honestly have no idea. Could we continue this-" she was cut off as he grabbed her under one arm and bodily threw her out of the way as he skewered another two men, who, judging from the looks on their faces, had thought that Cass would be an easy target. "Later?" She said weakly.

He set her on her feet, looking down at her solemnly. Then his eyes drifted up over her shoulder and around in circles around them where members of the EITC and a few of the me. From the crew of the Black Pearl had surrounded them. "Cass!" Pintel hissed. "Come here so we can kill 'im!"

Cass glowered at him. "No."

Jones chuckled. "While I appreciate-uh this show of uh-fection, I do want-uh to see what-uh they are plannin'." She almost knocked him upside the head for that.

"Pintel, advise the crew that if they want to live for another three minutes, they should clear off. Now." Her voice was filled with anger and conviction, and still, behind her Jones was still laughing.

"And why should the words of a poppet," Pintel said sarcastically, stressing 'poppet', "mean anything to pirates?"

Cass looked to Jones. "I gave them a chance."

"So you did-uh."

"I don't have any particular attachment to any of them." The look he gave her was one of pure exasperation. She knew he had no problem with her sending these people to his Locker. She nodded once again and flipped the sword in her grip, smiling with no humor and bearing her teeth. Worriedly, Pintel raised his pistol and shot at Jones behind her, and she jumped what felt like a meter into the air. The bullet missed, but it set Cass off. Behind her, Jones turned so they were back to back, each taking as many opponents at a time as they could and littering the ground around them with bodies. Most of the bullets didn't hit them, but Cass felt one go through her forearm and another scrape across her forehead, and herd Jones growl as he too took a hit.

Cass kicked out and caught a man in the knee, popping it away from the rest of the limb so he fell away, screaming in pain. Another she ran through with her sword, then used to shield herself from another blow from another attacker. She then grabbed a handful of Jones' coat in both her hands and smashed a man's nose in with a had kick, knocking him into one of his friends, who happened to be Pintel. He fell back, watching as the two fought back to back without Cass even bat a lash at who she was defending and fighting with.

Then it dawned on him that this might have been going on for a very, very long time. He had seen her leap off the ship earlier, heard her curse at Calypso with such fervency that it had to be personal. He had heard her speak of how she had become heartless to Sparrow, how she was afraid of what would happen if Calypso were to be released.

He watched as she cut down many a man to get to Jones, saw her eat up lives as she fought for one of the last things she lived for.

He wondered how he could have missed it all.

Scuttling away, he swung back to the Pearl, knowing that if somehow Jones was killed despite all that he had going for him, Cass would eventually end up back there, and would very likely bash his head in.

Meanwhile, Cass and Jones moved in circles, cutting down men left and right, Cass cackling frighteningly and Jones laughing at every body that fell. Jack watched, feeling proud of the girl he had taught. She fought fiercely, not sparing a though when necessary. The didn't fight only with her weapon, but with her mind and limbs as well. The ring of men circling around them dwindled, and a few of the pirates fled. The others had no chance, and were snapped up in the iron jaws of death.

Cass said something to Jones over her shoulder, and he yelled his reply over the wind. Another two men went down, and Jones said something else, which cased Cass to fling herself at him. For a moment Jack thought she was going to kill him, but then they embraced, kissing, just like the newly married couple aboard the other ship. Another man approached them, and angrily Jack ran over to him and ran knocked him with the butt of his broken sword. The spiny man joined him, along with a man with an eel for a head, the coral-man, and the man with the shell under his arm. To his surprise, they didn't attack him, as he had expected them to. They surrounded their captain and Cass, keeping attackers from running their moment, just as Jack had done.

When the two parted and returned to the world around them, the crew disappeared as if they had never been there. Cass looked at Jack, who had a body at his feet from where he had knocked the man out. She nodded, as if she would consider it later weather she would forgive him or not for whatever he had done.

Elizabeth flew from a rope and landed next to him, drawing her sword. She looked around to find Jones, and having spotted him, dashed at him as if to forcibly cut him away from Cass. She, like Pintel, had not yet completely pieced it all together, believing that Jones was forcing himself of her.

Jones saw her first, and pushed Cass out of the way to engage Elizabeth. "Harridan! You'll see no mercy from me-uh!"

"That's why I brought this!" She waved her sword in the air, to which Jones laughed.

"One of your friends, Cass?" But Cass was gone, having spotted the chest.

"She has lost enough without you hurting her more!"

Jones growled, then lunged at her. "Do not say-uh such a vile thing-uh!"

As the two fought, Cass ran to the chest, where it lay abandoned against the side of the cabin. As her fingers grasped for it, a booted foot came out of nowhere and kicked it away from her.

Will stood before her, sword raised as if to slice her up. "Oh. It's you."

"Really?" She made a show of looking at herself. "I couldn't tell." After a pause, she continued making her way to the chest, but was shoved out of the way by Will again. "I kind of need that," she said sardonically.

"I need to save my wife and my father. Whatever reason you have dwindles in comparison to mine." She rolled her eyes.

"Doubt it." She stabbed at him with her sword, but he, being the superior swordsman, threw her sword from her had with the strength of his parry. She fell onto her back, and used the momentum to slide down the wet deck and reach for the chest. She grabbed it protectively and glared at Will as he advanced. "Bugger off."

From her fight with Jones, Elizabeth was hurled away and into Will, who buckled as her weight hit the back of his knees. He fell onto Cass, who threw the chest aside so it would be out of his reach. And then Elizabeth had it, and Will had the key, and Cass was putting everything she had into the fight as she clawed and bit Will, attempting to get him to relinquish the chest. She howled, and suddenly Jack was there, taking the chest from Will and the Key from Elizabeth, and he was standing in the middle of it all.

Then he was knocked backward by Jones, who was now focused on Will. Will looked to Elizabeth, asking without words if she was alright. Elizabeth looked frightened, and even more so when Cass picked up the chest and walked away from them.

Jones looked between the married couple. "Ah. Love. A dreadful bond-uh." He looked at Will with malice in his eyes. "Yet so easily severed. William Turner, do you feah death?"

"Do you?" Cass had not seen the man creep up behind her until he had hit her on the back of the head with what felt like a brick. James Norrington stood there, the pulsating heart in his hand and a knife in the other.

"We had an agreement-uh," Jones growled at him.

"That was before you threatened Elizabeth."

"I didn't threaten her-uh," he said, annoyed. He took his sword, looked it over once, then plunged it through Will's heart. He smirked evilly and twisted the blade, making him yell and Elizabeth scream. "I killed him-uh." He left the sword there, laughing. Cass tried to heave herself up and go to Jones, who was striding toward her. Her vision would just not clear of stars.

He was a step away when he abruptly stopped. His beard twitched, writhed, and Cass looked over to the group to see Norrington next to Will, looking at Elizabeth, helping Will to-

Stab the heart. Jack was mid-leap at the former Commodore, attempting to stop him doing what he did. And yet the blade punctured the organ, and Davy Jones stood there, dying.

Cass screamed. She tried to get up, stood with the aid of the rail, and righted herself quickly enough to see him star at her, say her name, her full name, with such sadness, then topple over the railing. "Cassandra."

She kept screaming, but all sound had vanished from the world. She used all her available strength to follow him, jumping after him as he fell to the churning sea below.


	30. Chapter 30

She was falling again, the world growing darker and darker as the sea swallowed the two of them, as Claypso swallowed the two of them. Jack couldn't believe that James bloody Norrington had stabbed the heart for Will. It made sense that he would want to do anything for Elizabeth, but still. If Cass survived the sea, or even the next year, they would all be hunted. He had seen her face as they fell: she would get over the sadness of his death quickly enough, and then she would do something about it, if he knew her well.

He hadn't been the one to stab the heart, though. She wouldn't come after him, if he was lucky. But even an insane mind such as her own had to be able to tell he took no gladness in the death of her beloved, even if the thought of it still made his stomach churn. It was Cass, bloody Cass, the one who had showed him that it was possible to live, to be happy, even when all was against you. She had been taken upon the Dutchman in an effort to make him pay, and look where it had ended her: with more pain than just the scars on her back would speak of. Instead of just a monster and it's pet after her, she had enfolded a goddess's rage and still stuck to what she wanted. Death hadn't stopped her, pain hadn't stopped her, the EITC hadn't stopped her, nothing had stopped her yet.

And now she was beneath the waves, fighting a goddess over who got to have the corpse of the dead sea devil. Behind him, Elizabeth was still screaming for her new husband, but it was muted by the crashing of the waves and the chant of the crew. "Part of the crew, part of the ship." She had been part of the crew, she probably still was. Was that a precaution she had arranged with Jones, so that in the event that the goddess attempted to kill her, she could continue to fight? Only she would throw her life away in such a way.

The waves seemed to increase in size as he watched, as if there were a massive fight continuing and each party was commanding a massive army. Calypso would need one if she intended to cut Cass down.

Or she would need a really big wave. She went for the second option, spouting Cass back on the deck in front of him. She looked more cut up then he remembered, but the fire was still in her eyes. She gripped his arm, obviously in pain, and pulled herself to her feet. Taking one shuddering step after another, she stood in the way of the crew. At the front of the group, Bootstrap Bill Turner shoved her back towards Jack. "Out of the way, Crylass." Whatever 'Crylass' was, it seemed to make her fight harder.

"Do not impede my judgment, Turner."

"Ye aren't captain," he said back, the proceeded to ignore her.

"No, but I uphold my loyalty, something you lot seem to have forgotten!"

"Yer just a lass," said the spiky one as he passed by.

She wasn't though. She was Cass, and she had danced across the ship in a deadly whirlwind, laughing all the way. She had fought a goddess, she had faced the Locker. She had done more than these men somehow. She was not 'just a lass.'

They continued their march in front of him, and suddenly Jack remembered Elizabeth, who was still trying to wake her husband. He looked to her, then back at Cass quickly enough to see her knees give and her to fall to the deck. Thinking fast, he gathered the necessary materials and worked as quickly as he could. When the arrangement was finished, he pulled Cass over to the railing, then didn't the same with Elizabeth. He wasn't sure how he was going to get all three of them off the ship, when one was numb and looking very much like she was dead and the other was sobbing enough to fill the oceans.

He ended up tying Cass to his chest and making Elizabeth hold on to his neck. It left his hands free to shoot the pistol, and then they were flying through the air, caught by the parachute made out of the great sail of the Dutchman. When she recovered, Cass would want to keep it, he was sure.

They were helped aboard the Pearl once more by Gibbs, and Jack set Elizabeth down to get a look at what all damage had happened to his ship. It could all be repaired, thankfully, but how many times they would have to repair it in the future and it would still function he didn't know. They would need new sails, and someone appeared to have made one of them into slivers. Cass was still hanging on him, staring blankly at nothing.

He set her down after untying her, and touched her face lightly. "Lass?"

Her eyes focused and she looked up at him sadly. "It's not fair." Her voice was childlike in its tone, and he saw the tears welling up in her eyes, grateful that at least she hadn't decided to kill everyone on the ship. Yet.

Next to them, Gibbs was asking Jack what he was going to do about the armada still facing them.

"It isn't over, Cass."

"It might as well be," she wailed as the fin that had been her hair slid down her face, and her teeth shrank in her mouth. The barnacles fell from her clothing and she wailed louder after each loss. "He's gone, and now the world knows, and Calypso lives! It is all over now, Jack! Just throw me overboard and be done with it!"

He wrapped her in a hug, muffling her sobs against his shoulder.

"Then be yourself and fight the world, fight Calypso, and win, just as you always do."

She snorted, but was interrupted as the Dutchman surfaced once more. She didn't even seem to notice it, almost as if she were looking through it into the past and seeing what she had lost. Her sopping hair, now back to its original texture, dripped mournfully onto her face, making her look like a kidnapped damsel aboard a pirate ship, even though there was no way she would ever be that.

Jack offered her a hand up, but she just looked at it until he withdrew it and made his way to the helm. He plastered a grin on his face, knowing that it would not be forced in a few short moments when the last of the EITC was disbanded. Without a leader, what would they be? Military men who had seen the wonders and horrors of the sea? It was almost all over, and soon they would be exactly that. With any luck, Calypso would be too busy with Jones to attack Cass before she got to shore.

In theory, she should be safe on land. Calypso, though a powerful and terrible goddess, only exercised her power on the high seas: in fact, she had been bound on land, where her power was weakest. Once the company was demolished, and Jack knew that with both the Pearl and the Dutchman, they really had no chance, he would take Cass to shore and find her somewhere to stay. He could deposit her in Shipwreck cove for sure, but it might be wiser to send her off with Elizabeth, who might be able to help more than he could. He wouldn't want to leave the sea, even for her, and who knew if Calypso would still hold a grudge against him and seek his demise?

He would send her off with the new Mrs. Turner, then. He would find the Fountain of Youth, and then when granted his immortality, would seek to bind the goddess again. Then all would be set right.

"Fire," he bellowed as the two ships drew parallel to the Endeavor. The naval ship didn't respond, didn't even fire. From what he could see, the men had been thrown into disarray by their leader's lack of plan. Beckett seemed to have lost all sense, and was simply watching with a stunned expression on his face as everything crumbled around him.

Jack saw Cass stand and watch as Beckett fell, a strangely blank look on her face for one who was watching their enemy die. She then shook her head, as if clearing it, and straightened her slouching back back to it's usual rigidness. It was with a new face that she looked at him again. Gone was the sadness, and instead she looked blank. Only her eyes held a spark of determination.

So she had a plan to go forward now.

A second later she stood next to him. "I have to go to shore, most likely when you drop Elizabeth at Singapore to figure out the details of her pirate kinglyness." She sighed. "I'm going to miss the Pearl"

"But not enough to stay," he joked.

"I will not bring further hardship to the crew. If I were to stay, you would be a target for Calypso, and you all would probably die."

"Where will you go?"

"As far inland as I can manage."

Jack nodded. "I will see if I might convince the Pirate Lords to bind her in your absence." There was no question as to who 'her' was.

A wry smile crossed her face. "Good. And Jack? Thank you. I hope we meet again under better circumstances."

"You'll be missed, Cass."

"A necessary evil," she said in a light tone. Suddenly serious again, she said in a desperate tone "Jack, find the Fountain of Youth quickly. Everything went to pot while you were in the Locker, and we can't have that happen again."

He had an idea of where she was going, of why she looked so determined, why she wanted to know he would be safe. Cassandra was going to fight a goddess, and she knew she would probably die because of it.

"Only if you promise not to make it easy for her to kill you."

She nodded. "Godspeed, Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Godspeed, Cassandra Evens."

She nodded before she melded into the railing, using her ability as part of the Dutchman's crew to transport back to the ship.

Cass nearly knocked into Koliniko, who was staring at his hands, looking stunned at the transformation he had made. No longer was he covered in spines and various bits of the sea. "Neat, in'nit?"

"'S alright," she replied, looking angrily at the new captain. "What do you think of him?"

"He won't be as cruel as Jones, but he has no idea how to run a ship. Probably will favor his father."

Cass nodded in agreement. "What would you think if I went after Jones?"

"Why did I know you would say that?" He shook his head. "Wouldn't be happy at all, I would. I want me back to stay in one piece, thank he very much."

"And if for some unimaginable reason, he was not as cruel as before?"

"Wouldn't be Jones, now would it? 'S long as he takes care of the damn souls and I get to keep me pretty face, he can be captain. The crew of this ship is cruel, making need for a captain that can keep them in check. I'll bet Clanker's hat Turner won't last a week here."

"I will most likely end up going after him. And I accept the bet. Looser has to go take it and give it to the winner, aye?"

"Aye," he laughed.

"I will go inform our inadequate captain of my imminent departure."

"Calypso's got something coming to her, doesn't she?"

Cass smiled widely, but without humor. It was a hunter's smile, full of the knowledge that she was coming after the goddess, and would bring every bit of chaos she could muster with her. "Of corse," she said sweetly, then walked over to Will, trying to keep her expression neutral in effort to not show how much she loathed him.

He was speaking to his father predictably as he steered the ship towards land. Cass tapped him on the shoulder. He looked back at her, then grimaced. "How did I know I would have to deal with you sooner or later?"

"Because I'm part of the crew," she guessed sarcastically. "Or maybe because I fought for Jones?"

Will looked exasperated. "Is there any way I can get rid of her," he asked his father.

Cass held up a hand. "I was actually coming here to let you know I will not be staying here and wish to end my duties. All I ask is that you drop me off in Singapore with Elizabeth so I can get ashore as quickly as possible."

He looked a bit happier to see she wouldn't be his problem anymore. "I will warn you, though, that if the Damned Goddess decides to give Jones another chance at life, your life will mostly be over. I expect that he will not take your commissioning of his ship very well."

"And what will you be doing on land?"

"Fighting said Damned Goddess. And living, hopefully."

"Fine. I release you from your servitude, or whatever I have to say to get rid of you."

"Something along those lines." She turned away and walked back to Koliniko. "As it turns out, I'm not going to be coming back for a long time. Good luck to you and the crew, though. Don't die, it would be horribly inconvenient."

"Keep an eye open as well, Crylass"

Cass smiled at him, then walked to the longboat, which were being lowered down, plus one Will Turner. She added her weight to it as it was slowly reaped down and waved at the crew as she descended. The chest sat in her companion's lap, but she refused to look at it, not wanting to bring on the anger until later.


	31. Chapter 31

Their first stop was the Pearl, as not a moment after Will had begun rowing did she remember that she still had some business to attend to. Luckily, it appeared that Jack had realized she required a way to return to the ship, as there was a rope dangling from the side. Her time in climbing up and down the ropes of the Crow's Nest assisted her greatly as she ascended the hull of the Pearl.

"Elizabeth," she said, greeting her friend as she threw her leg over the rail. "I need a ship. And a crew."

The other woman looked surprised. "And how would you propose I help you with this?"

Cass sniffed. "I assumed you might be making a trip to Singapore in the near future, to clear up your Pirate Lordship and all the fuss about Sao Feng's death."

Indeed, Elizabeth had planned on doing so. "And you want a ship?"

"And a crew."

"For what purpose?"

Cass sighed. She really didn't want to divulge that particular bit of information just yet. "I have business."

Elizabeth shrugged. If Cass wouldn't tell her, she probably had good reason. "I will see what I can do."

Cass smiled. "Thank you. But, we should probably get going. Your husband wanted to spend what remained of this day with you, I believe?"

Elizabeth nodded. "You should say goodbye to Jack. If he is truly going in pursuit of the Fountain of Youth, we might not be seeing him for a while. Due to the trouble he tends to attract." They both laughed grimly, recalling all that had transpired over the past few months.

"You could write a novel on your adventures. Could sell for quite a bit," Cass chuckled.

"You could as well."

She shook her head. "I can't write."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "No matter. Good luck on your travels."

"Let's hope I do."

The two of them walked over the deck to where the crew appeared to be waiting to bid them farewell. Elizabeth passed first, nodding and smiling to acquaintances and friends. She leaned in, as if to kiss Jack in the cheek, but he backed away, hands raised and a joking smile on his face. "Once is quite enough." Cass snorted. Rather than look irritated at Jack's jibe at her past actions, Elizabeth smiled in a laughing sort of manner.

Cass then walked down the line, nodding to those she passed. The only one she stopped to say anything to was Jack. "Godspeed, Sparrow," she said, grinning.

"Don't get yerself killed, Cass," he said with the same tone.

"I'll try... But in our line of work-" her sentence was cut off by her own laugh. "You tend to experience the supernatural."

Jack smiled slightly. "All too often, love."

Cass shrugged. "If you get killed, I am not going back to that Locker to get you back, understand?"

He scowled in return. "I am not going back to that Locker, mate."

As she walked away, she looked back. "Good. That's the answer I was looking for."

"You make no sense!"

"Yes I do!"

Picking up the hems of her tattered shirt, she bobbed a fake cutesy, grinning like a lunatic. Jack had no idea how she was able to go from stunned silence to jubilance so quickly. She had changed so much over their journey, eyes that hadn't started off innocent had taken on a spark of madness, become even more attune to the harshness of reality. Her eyes had been opened even further by the set of the sea and the brutality of the Dutchman. And still she stood up rigidly, calling storms to her fingertips to channel her heartless rage.

Cassandra Evens was strong.

The woman in question stepped into the longboat behind Elizabeth, waved regally and looked towards shore.

Jack had a vague feeling that he would see her again. She would bring with her adventure and a whole host of men who would not doubt want to kill him.

'Until then,' he thought.

The water was a clear blue beneath the boat, and she had the urge to run her hands through it. The liquid sifted through her fingers, taking some of the dirt off of her now-calloused fingers. Cass partially wanted to jump overboard and just scrub her skin as clean as she could, but she didn't. They were almost to shore anyway, and she could already see the darkened form of Elizabeth's husband silhouetted on the beach.

She wasn't sure how she felt about the entire Will-replacing-Jones business, but for the sake of her friend, she would be polite. Or as polite as she could be.

Elizabeth was rowing, wanting to reach her beloved as soon as possible. Either that or not trusting that Cass would just take up oars and row them to whatever destination she had in mind. Cass didn't think she would be able to do that. He bones were weary ever since the battle, her eyes tired. All she really wanted at the moment was to clean up and sleep in a clean, dry bed. But it must have been clear to her that Cass cared more about what she would do as opposed to Will.

Cass wondered for a moment if it was really that obvious. Knowing her personality and how she generally let everyone around her know she was displeased through her actions, it probably was. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Hopefully, if she was successful, she wouldn't have to see the new captain again. Elizabeth could keep Will, Will could keep the Dutchman. Cass would get her own ship.

The thought of a vessel of her own reminded her of her original idea of what being a pirate was all about. Not so long ago she had thought she would be a great captain, standing fearlessly at the helm, the blood of many a man on her hands and a reputation to make men tremble in their boots. She thought she would be known for her strength and power, but it really seemed that would not be the case. Legends were known for a reason. Sure, she had fought beside Jack Sparrow, had known the Pirate King, and had survived crewing the Flying Dutchman. Aside from the last part, she was sure there were plenty of people who had done the same. Were they not just as worthy of being known as she was?

Of course they were. That dream was a girl's fantasy, not even in the realm of possibility. It didn't even matter to her anymore either.

Ever since she had become part of the Dutchman's crew, ever since she had turned into what she was now, everything had become about survival and getting what she wanted.

Now was no different. She would get a ship, a crew, and then set corse for nowhere. Then, she would hunt down the pirate lords and get the thrice-damned goddess bound again, this time for good. Maybe then she could find a way forward, once she was out of the giant crab-shaped shadow.

She had been so lost in thought she didn't realize they had made it to land until Elizabeth nudged her with her foot. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she clambered out of the longboat, almost falling out due to the rippling waves and the trembling of her legs. Stealing herself by pinwheeling her arms, she stepped onto land and promptly walked away from the now-embracing couple. She really didn't want to see them canoodling on a beach.

Not too far along the shore there was a small rock sitting in the shallows. It was high up enough that the top was warmed by the sun, and the waves didn't reach it at the current hour. Cass clambered to the top and let her feet dangle off the side, her boots stirring small circles in the waves. She pulled her left foot to her chest and yanked the boot off, letting her bare foot fall back to the water. She held her breath. Knowing she probably smelled as bad as Jack did. She did the same with the other boot, then rolled up her pant legs to reveal thick, sunburned legs, toned by the workload and burnt from the constant Caribbean sun. Slipping from the rock, she landed in the water, wiggling her toes in the sand. Sighing, she let her knees buckle and sank down in the water, letting its coolness wash over her.

She would now be fine if Will and Elizabeth decided to eat each other's faces for all eternity. The water felt sublime. So long as she didn't get hungry, require fresh water, or require the use of the facilities, she would be content to sit here and let the waves lap over her. Despite the time of day, her eyelids felt surprisingly heavy, and she felt the need to close them. The rock above her cast enough of a shadow that the sun had not shone in her face, and so up until that point, she had no wish to close her eyes. However, the weighted feeling remained, and slowly her eyes shut.

Then she was being nudged awake by Elizabeth, who was standing over her. "What did you think you were doing? You could have drowned!"

On second thought, falling asleep in the ocean was not the best of ideas. "You and Will were off..." She struggled to think of the right word, tried again, and gave up. "You and Will were off," here she gestured with her hand in the general vicinity of where Elizabeth had been standing what felt like minutes ago. "So I decided to sit in the shallows a while."

"And happened to fall asleep."

"That appears to be true."

"With the day you've had, well," she said, then amended he statement."We all have had, I cannot particularly blame you for sleeping. Your location, however..."

"Elizabeth, I could have died a thousand different ways in the last few months. Drowning would be horribly anticlimactic. Besides, you've seen the world we live in. No need to mother me." Cass got to her feet, sighed, and stretched her arms above her head. The sun had set while she had been asleep, but the sky was still lit with pinks and purples. Neither Will nor the Dutchman remained in her field of view, so Cass assumed they had gone with the sun.

"Then shall we be going?"

"Another moment."

"Why would you need another moment?"

Cass blinked at her friend blankly. "The moment we begin moving towards Singapore, the next bit of my life starts. A new chapter, you might say. Despite all the misfortune we all have had, in a way I don't want to leave that part behind entirely. I know I will not, not really," she added in response to Elizabeth's look. "But I want to live in it while I can. I want to remember, so when all goes to pot again, as we both know it will, I will know those times, and I will be able to stand taller and fight stronger."

"Fight with more strength," Elizabeth corrected. "I doubt I will see you when things go to pot, as you say. After you have what you require in Singapore, I will return to Port Royale and settle down. Enjoy my days in peace."

Cass looked genuinely surprised. "Won't you get bored?"

"I'm not like you or Jack, Cass. The sea is nice and all, but I have had my fill of fights to the death and smelling like a fish," Elizabeth laughed.

Cass sniffed. "I don't smell that bad." She lifted her boot to her face, and sniffed, the recoiled. "Alright, maybe I do."

Elizabeth grinned. "Are you ready to leave yet?"

"Let me get my boots on. It wouldn't do to face the world without sufficient foot coverings." She slid her now-waterlogged boots onto her feet, then walked out of the water, feet squelching in said foot coverings as she trended over the sand.

"Now we can go. Drink up me hearties, yo ho!"

Elizabeth looked at her, confused. "Why would you say that?"

"Sounds like somethin' Jack would say, and chances are, I won't be seeing him for a while."

"Drink up me hearties," Elizabeth said in agreement.

"Yo ho!" Cass agreed as they walked further inland.


	32. Chapter 32

It only took them two weeks to arrive in Singapore. Elizabeth, despite her efforts, was not able to glean anything of Cass' motives. She found this to be mildly irritating and possibly dangerous, as Cass was unpredictable, and often did not think of the repercussions of her actions. As Elizabeth had no control of Cass' behavior, she did her best to put a stop to any actions that might go fowl.

She had ideas as to what her friend might be up to, but hoped desperately that she was wrong. After all, why would Cass travel all the way to the Locker, a place she obviously disliked to save someone who had turned her into what she was today? Then again, during the fight Cass had been acting strangely, as if she had not wanted the monstrous captain to be killed. Even Jack had seemed to understand there was something more going on: she saw the two of them talking on more than one occasion.

Something was definitely going on.

As they stepped out onto the dock and onto the crowded street beyond, Elizabeth noticed that Cass was more tense than usual. At first she assumed it was simply her reviving her land-legs, but quickly tossed that notion aside. Since she had known Cass, she had never known the girl to have trouble with transitions between sea and land, or at least never showed any discomforts outwardly. She was strange that way, letting others know how she felt by physically assaulting them, but hiding other things that may be more significant to her well-being.

As they passed by, Elizabeth noticed they were given a wide berth, as if the residents were worried that the two newcomers had brought some great horror on them. She was not so sure that she had not.

If her suspicions were correct and it was Cass' goal to bring Jones back, there was definitely the risk of Calypso becoming aware of the situation, and another fight breaking out. With Will on the Dutchman, she was also aware that Jones may attempt to reclaim his ship, putting her new husband at risk. Elizabeth had no desire to return to the seas, but she found that if Cass were to be successful, she might have to in order to warn Will.

Maybe she would even warn him ahead of time, just to be safe. That was most likely the best option.

Either way, if she were going to have to go back out to sea, she would need to leave a day after Cass did, and take note of which direction she went. Despite the fact that they were friends, Cass would probably support the removal of Will from the Dutchman, if all of her assumptions were correct.

More and more, as she thought of it, all that would happen in the future depended on these assumptions and their validity. To think that Cass saw no issue bringing the most feared man back from the dead... Elizabeth was indeed very worried. But as she had learned, she showed nothing. Instead, she kept a mask of happiness about her countenance and looked for bedding for the night that would not require the two of them to do anything she would object to.

The two passed the place where Tia Dalma's cart had stood the last time they were there, shielding some of the crew so they could break into Sao Feng's steamhouse. She did not point this out, however, as she believed it might set Cass off. Calypso was truly not a good subject at any given point. Ever.

Finally, Cass spoke, pointing at a tavern. It was a grungy old place, blending in perfectly with the buildings around it so as to seem as if it were simply an extension of them. Elizabeth did not like the look of the place whatsoever, as she had been imagining a place to clean the ilk from the past months off. This place seemed to need a cleanup nearly as much as she wished for one. She was about to point this out to Cass, but her friend was already a few meters away, walking in the direction of the tavern.

"Would you get back here," she shouted, dodging between women carrying various objects and attempting to not bowl any of them over. She shouted apologies over her shoulder as she followed her friend. Cass was not too far in front of her, but Elizabeth knew better than to grab her shoulder and yank her backward: if she did, Cass would most certainly think it an attack and attempt bodily harm. She would also succeed.

Elizabeth had watched her friend fight on the deck of the Dutchman. Her reflexes were something to be reckoned with, even if her skill was not. She also used her gender to her advantage, often with a disastrous result for whomever her opponent happened to be. Too often she had seen a man underestimate her ability to kill, and still be able to be happy afterward. It was a true mark of how far she had fallen, and it unnerved, concerned, and fascinated Elizabeth.

She caught up to Cass, making sure she was in eyesight before attempting contact. "How are we sure this is an adequate location," she questioned. Cass shrugged.

"It looks like a tavern." She sniffed the air exaggeratedly. "It smells like a tavern. My best guess says its a tavern." Again, she proceeded forward, only to have her shoulder grasped by Elizabeth.

"It doesn't exactly appear safe. Or decent."

Cass grinned toothily. "Pirates," she said, pointing at herself and then her companion. "We have weapons. We know how to use them. I see no issue."

"You also are not able to properly assess situations," Elizabeth muttered. Either Cass did not hear, or pretended not to. If Elizabeth had to bet, she would pick the first one. Despite Cass' frighteningly quick senses, she often seemed to not pick up on things that were right in front of her. It was not that she was unaware, it was more she was concentrated on things she considered to be more worth her time than minuscule details that she often dismissed mentally.

Twenty minutes later, the two of them were sitting in a cramped room that smelled heavily of rum and sweat, among other things. Though it didn't seem to bother Cass, who had spent most of her life in Tortuga, it certainly was not something Elizabeth planned on getting used to anytime soon. She didn't care why Cass was used to the stench, she simply wanted to leave the dank room or at least open a window. As they had not payed the extra coin to have such a luxury, they had four walls, a pile of folded blankets, a roof and a floor. Their door also closed and locked, which Elizabeth was very grateful for. However, she had a suspicion that if someone were to try anything during the night, they would end up in pieces before they got their hands on anything or anyone. Cass was useful like that on occasion.

"Cass," Elizabeth began, wondering how to phrase her question.

"Hmm?" Cass was sitting on the opposite side of the room, leaning up against a wall, apparently deep in though.

A pause, and then: "You aren't planning on going after Jones and bringing him back, are you?"

The other woman sat up quickly, her spine becoming very rigid and her muscles tensing. "What do you know," she asked quietly.

Though Elizabeth would like to think her friend would never actually attempt to kill her, her tone was sending alarms off in her subconscious, and she edged toward the door in case she had to make a hasty getaway. "Nothing, nothing."

"Did Jack say something? Tell me!" Her eyes were wild and mad, the whites showing shockingly against her dark irises. She looked horrifying in that moment, and Elizabeth was sure she was on the verge of pouncing on her and causing serious damage.

"He said nothing! It was just a prediction, Cass!" Elizabeth was horrified. Cass really was going after Jones, and somehow she had not wanted anyone to know. But as she had suspected, Jack had known, possibly and probably even helping her.

Perhaps she had not known Cass so well at all.

"I just want to know why, and then I'll never bring this up again," she tried to reason.

Cass cocked her head to the side curiously, looking even more insane than she had. "I suppose, if you really were not told, and figure it out yourself. Was it really that obvious? Jack said it want, and that the crew didn't know. Even the Dutchman's crew didn't know." She was speaking to herself, looking at nothing in particular. "Yes, I suppose I can tell her." Looking back at Elizabeth, her eyes closed somewhat, as if she were recalling something. "Yes, I am going after him. Yes, I know he will inevitably want the Dutchman back. No, I do not care in the least that Will is there. He was an ass the last time we met," she said with a snarl. "But you wanted to know why?

"I have replaced Calypso in what remains of his heart, and he allows me to have a small bit of love left in me. You could say we are in love, but that is not accurate, I think.

"I will find him, bring him back, and remove Calypso from the face of this earth once and for all. Satisfied?"

Elizabeth blinked several times. "And you take the chance of dooming us all?"

Cass nodded solemnly. "If it comes down to it, I will protect those I wish."

"You can fight him?"

"I can try. But I do not want to think of that now. I wish to rest."

"And what about Will? What did he do to you?"

Cass looked surprised, as of she expected Elizabeth to know this as well as she did. "He took his place. He removed me from my ship. He is subjugating my crew to treatment that will not benefit them. He took my ship from me by force."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Your ship?"

Cass nodded. "My ship. Just as the Pearl is the ship of both the captain and crew, that ship is mine. I crewed it, I lost my back, parts of myself... and I gained myself. It may not belong to me, but it is mine all the same."

"You make absolutely no sence."

"Maybe you just do not understand."

Another pause. "Would you spare Will? For me," Elizabeth pleaded.

Sniffing, Cass turned away. "I will consider it. No promises will be made, though, as his fate will depend upon our next meeting. If I find myself at the point of a sword, well, you know how I react."

"All to well," Elizabeth glowered. She was beginning to wonder why she considered this girl her friend in the first place. Possibly because they were the only females on the ship.

"Good. The you ought to rest. I will be getting a ship and crew in the morning, and you may want to be aware for that event."

Elizabeth, for once, did not comprehend what she was saying. All she could think of was that Will was going to die, and Cass was not going to flinch as she cut him down. Or had Jones cut him down, for that matter.

The girl who was now laying down not too far away had walked into the room her friend, and now was simply one more person she had a duty to. And she was going to use what she got from her to harm one she loved. And she was not going to regret it in the least, simply because Will had done what was right in his eyes.

Either Cass would cut him down, or Jones would, and only if the crew didn't get to him first, if Cass was to be believed.

The girl really was heartless.


	33. Chapter 33

It took maybe a day after that for Elizabeth to find an adequate ship and crew for Cass. However, as requested, the crew only knew that they were to be employed by the Pirate King, not the precise identity of the one who would captain their ship. Elizabeth had been directly instructed by Cass to do this, and though she was having serious doubts on whether or not she out to continue to be friends with the other woman, she understood her reasoning.

Men were more likely to mutiny against a woman captain, however ferocious and cruel, than a man. Elizabeth had evidence of that from captaining Sao Feng's ship for the brief period of time she had.

After a ship had been arranged for Cass, Elizabeth gave captaincy to the first mate.

It also appeared that Cass knew that Elizabeth was less inclined to be associated with her. Rarely had she been seen outside the room, and Elizabeth was not even sure the woman was eating. Whenever she entered the room, she always found Cass sitting in her corner, a musical locket open and playing. She was not aware Cass had possessed such an item, but she supposed it had been given to her by Jones.

She really didn't want to think about him though.

Whatever time Elizabeth had after negotiating transport for Cass was spent on a beach a walk away from the town with the chest that contained Will's heart. She wondered weather or not Cass would try to steal it before she left, and decided that yes, she probably would. For a heartless woman, she sure was capable of loyalty.

It was a day later that Elizabeth decided that she ought to hide the chest, rather than keep it with her at all times. She had never thought before the last few days that she would be afraid of what Cass would do, but times had changed.

When four days had passed, Elizabeth was told that the ship was ready. She had torn up the floorboards after Cass had left to board the ship, and put the chest in there. She then waited until The ship was out of eyesight to return and retrieve the chest.

She left for Port Royal the next day, completely prepared to forget she had ever known Cassandra Evens.

/

Elizabeth had done what she had promised, Cass supposed. She had a ship, though she had had to sneak aboard and hide out in the Captain's cabin. It was there that she had named her ship, though ti provably already had a name before she had become captain.

Looking back, her dream appeared to have come true: she was now captain of a ship, having conquered many an enemy. She was victorious, she supposed, but there was still the fact that she had obtained this at a price, one high enough that she had lost one of her friends.

Elizabeth didn't want Jones to return. Cass thought this was because she only cared about her love, and would choose him over anyone else. She supposed that was how love worked, but didn't particularly care, as she was the one suffering for it. Well, not suffering, really. Cass wanted to get Jones back, but was slightly unhappy for the loss of her friend.

She had though Elizabeth would have understood her motives better than that, but obviously not. It seemed her list of friends was slowly depleting.

Still, she sat in the cot in her cabin, examining the locket Jones had given her what felt like ages ago. She remembered finding it in the Crow's Nest, remembered how happy she had been that she would get to see him again. That simple word, 'parley', had given her the hope she was lacking.

She had been sure that everyone was going to try to kill Jones in one way or another. She was sure she would not ever see him again. But he had given her the chance, and she had taken it.

That did not change the fact that he was most definitely in the locker. She blamed Calypso for that. The goddess probably thought that she would not want to go back to that place, but she had underestimated Cass's determination. Cass would go back to the locker, and should Calypso stand there as it's guard, she would cut the goddess down, immortal or not.

She had not at first wanted Jones to go after Will. She was even hoping to somehow sway him to not destroying her friend's love. But Elizabeth was no longer her friend, so she saw no reason to try and stop the inevitable. The crew would probably cut him down anyway, so Elizabeth could blame her wrongly. She didn't suppose she would care, thought.

As the ship traveled over the ocean, the waves rocked the ship almost rhythmically. Cass Lay back and enjoyed the last bit of peace she would have for quite some time, if she was correct.

She didn't even get to enjoy it, for a moment later a knock came on the door. It appeared a crewman had become curious to see if there really was a captain aboard the ship or not.

Cass bellowed back that the lazy pile of rat dung had better return to work or he would suffer pain like no other.

Her threat seemed to work, which irritated her somewhat. She really hoped she didn't have a crew of cowards. This voyage she was embarking upon was not for the feint of heart. From what Jack had said, the journey would test them in almost every way possible. Cass severely hoped that she would be able to keep the crew under control the entire time.

She waited until it was dark to emerge from the cabin. The crew was working by the light of lanterns, though only a few famines abovedecks. The night was calm and quiet, though she expected would become quite the opposite as soon as she was noticed.

The man at the wheel was not paying attention. However, after Cass jabbed him in the side with her hand, he was quite a bit more alert. He was even more so when he realized she was female. "Stowa-" his yell was cut short as once again Cass jabbed him. He released his breath with an 'ooomph'.

Cass folded her arms across her chest. "I happen to be the captain of this vessel," she said in an irritated tone. "You would do best to remember that."

The man leered. "A woman captain? I think not-" again he was struck in the gut.

"I served aboard the Black Pearl before this. This ship was arranged for me by my friend, the Pirate King Elizabeth Swan."

The names of both the Pearl and her old friend seemed to be recognized by him. "You are no captain to me, wench," he stated nonetheless. Cass growled at the term he used to describe her.

"I am still your captain, weather you wish to acknowledge it or not," she replied, growing a bit angry. By now, the crew on decks had turned to see what the commotion was.

Cass turned her back to the man at the when and addressed the crew at large. "You have a captain. That captain is me. Should you wish to try anything, I will happily remove your insides from you and hand you from the mast with them. Carry on."

The man at the wheel was still leering at her as she turned back to face him. "You have much confidence for a whore."

"And yet I have just the right amount for the title O actually have, which would be 'captain'."

In one fluid motion, the man slapped her across the face. Cass staggered to the side, surprised by the blow and not anticipating it. "Know your place, whore. You are no captain."

Cass simply shrugged, having an air of complete apathy. "Have a nice visit with Davy Jones, and give him my regards," Cass said aloud. She then drew her sword, grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, and ran him through before flinging him over the rail of the ship. Turning back to the crew, who were still watching her, she dusted off her hands. "Who's next?" She asked, leaning on the rail and holding her sword in her hand.

No man came forward. Cass sighed. She had really hoped she would have a fight tonight. Sheathing her sword, she hauled herself back to a standing position. "Well, this development finds me in need of a new helmsman. Who wants to volunteer?" Most heads turned to face a man perched on the ropes. Cass pointed at him. "You there! You have just volunteered to be the new helmsman. Pray to whatever god you have that your fate is better than your predecessor's." The man stayed on the ropes. Cass threw her arms skyward in exasperation. "Do I really need to kill half the crew to convince you that I am serious? Fine!" She drew her sword and lunged over the short rail that separated the helm from the rest of the ship. The first man she met was met with the same fate as the old helmsman. The second was so close to the rail she simply shoved him off. The third one had his sword drawn by the time she turned on him, but he was weak. He landed on the deck with a wet thud.

"Jack Sparrow sailed a ship from Port Royal with only two men. Surely I don't need all of you," she exclaimed as she fought a fifth man.

A yell came from above, and the crew quickly backed away from her. A man descended the steps from the helm. Cass guessed from the way he held himself that he was the first mate. He looked at the carnage on the deck, then back at Cass. "I assume you are the captain the Pirate Lord gave us?"

Cass raised her chin. "I assume this is the ship I was given by the the Pirate King?"

The man looked around at the remaining crew. "You made short work of them. I gather you have fought worse?"

Cass smirked. If only he knew. "One could say that."

"And you sailed aboard the Black Pearl at the time when Swann became the Pirate King?"

She nodded in conformation.

"Did you ever meet the she-devil?" This confused Cass.

"I do not know who you refer to."

The man shrugged. "A madwoman, or so I am told. Crewed the Dutchman before the Pearl. Danced through the maelstrom battle, killing anyone who got in her way. Said to be heartless."

She had to keep herself from laughing aloud. "Where have you heard this from?"

"A crew arrived that was said to have fought the battle as well. Word traveled fast."

Cass nodded absently. "I knew her. Quite well, actually. Given she is myself."

She looked around at the crew, who now appeared rather shocked. "Are we through with this, or not? I still need a decent helmsman, and we still have a ways to go."

The man shouted an order in his native language, and the crew jumped back to work. "Many of them know of what you have done, and fear you not only for your display tonight, but your past actions. You truly are a frightening woman."

Cass spared him a glance. "I really have Jones to that for that."

"Your experiences were less then pleasurable, I imagine."

"Quite the understatement," Cass smirked. "I used to be cowardly."

"And now you can kill with no thought."

Cass looked back at the helm, and, seeing that it was once again manned, relaxed slightly. "You said it yourself; I am heartless."

There was silence for a moment as they both watched the crew work. Then the man asked where they were going.

"If I told you, you would all abandon the ship."

The man chuckled. "I still have some honor. I will not abandon this ship."

Cass contemplated telling him for a moment, the decided that it might be of use later on for one other to know. "You already know that Jones was killed."

The man's expression changed slightly, then become passive again. "And?

"We are going to get him back. We are going," she grinned brightly, "to the Locker!"


	34. Chapter 34

To say that Calypso was displeased would be an understatement.

If one were to dig deeper and find out exactly why she was displeased, two reasons would be discovered. One was that Davy Jones still had that cursed octopus face, which was just unseemly. She was a goddess, after all; she deserved a handsome man to be her mortal love, not a sea creature that had once been human. However, she was able to fix that. She was able to fix a great many things, in truth.

The one thing she couldn't fix was the second reason of her displeasure. The wench, whom she had thought to be out of they way for once, was once again searching for Jones. The damned mortal could not leave things that were not her business well alone, could she? She just had to intrude into everything, spreading her insanity wherever she went.

At least now, Calypso was free, and could actually do something about the wench. The only issue was that she did not know where the girl was, other than not in the Locker. She would know if the intrusive whore entered this domain.

Calypso looked down at the form of Davy Jones. He appeared to be asleep, his face as peaceful as she had ever seen it. She wondered for a brief moment how he would react when he woke and found himself in this place. It was too bad she would not be here to see him then.

The goddess of the sea glanced one more time at the creature that had created this entire conflict, reached out and with one finger caressed his slimy face. She did not even bother staying long enough to see the tentacles retract into his human features as he became human once more. Instead, she turned and strode away, in no particular direction.

She had a mortal to kill, after all.

/

Cassandra Evens was displeased. Her reasons were much simpler than Calypso's- she was cold, hungry, and back in the Locker. She was also happily ignoring the fact that she now had one less person on her side of matters. It didn't help that that person was someone she had considered her friend.

Her quest to find and return Jones to the land of the living was helping her cope with all that had transpired, but even with a mind as damaged as her own, she was not as completely numb as she was said to be. Elizabeth had been kept close to her heart as one of her dearest friends. The wound she caused was deep.

It wasn't as if Cass couldn't deal with it, though. She still had Jack, unless he was dead. She supposed the crew of the Black Pearl could also be considered her friends, but she didn't have confidence in that fact.

So she went to retrieve Jones, and fight off whatever heathen goddess stood in her way.

However, as she looked out over the white rock of the Locker, she saw no obstacles or angry Calypsos in her path, which was quite a relief. When the crew realized just where they were going, they had refused to disembark. However, one crew member wisely pointed out that they should not just leave Cass there- she knew how to escape, and they did not. Therefore, if they ever wanted to see civilization again, they would wait on her. Cass thought that this was amusing. As she stepped onto land, she shuddered with the memory of when she had last been here. It had not been pleasant, but at least it worked out in the end, as most things seemed to around Jack Sparrow. With her luck, she fully expected to be tortured and killed before even locating Jones.

As it turned out, luck was on her side for once. Either Jones has not been deposited far into the locker, or Calypso wanted to be able to find him easily in this forsaken place. Either way, Cass was not dead nor tortured when she found Jones. Yet her luck could not be all good: Jones was sitting on the ground, staring off into the distance away from Cass. He was also under a sort of half-bubble that was just visible enough to be noticed, but not enough so hinder transparency.

Cass cursed Calypso with the foulest words she could think of, and strode forward to see what she could do against the magical barrier.

As it turned out, she could do nothing. Despite her slashing at it with her blade, shooting at it, and throwing all the force in her frame into the barrier, nothing happened. Jones didn't even look at her.

She screamed at slammed her fist into the barrier, bloodying her knuckle from the force of the blow and the decrepit quality of her flesh. She turned away and walked around the barrier so she could face Jones. She did not see the barrier begin to disappear where a lone drop of her blood had come into contact with it.

The first thing she noticed was the fact that Jones now had hair. He wasn't supposed to have hair. The she noticed that he was apparently fully human. She gave no reaction, instead opting to try and get his attention. It was a task easier said that done, as his eyes were closed and the barrier was apparently soundproof. Calypso had probably placed more spells on him as well.

Looking at all the 'progress' she had made, Cass sighed and slumped against the barrier. A lone tear fell. She had come so close, and yet was hindered by the same thing that had hindered her every other time: Calypso. Why could nothing just be easy? Had she not earned a short break after everything that she had gone through to get to this point?

She again slammed her fist into the barrier, more blood seeping out of the wound on her hand. The barrier began melting away where ever the blood touched. This time, Cass noticed. However, she was not the only one to do so.

Jones' eyes shot open as the barrier began to melt away in one spot. His eyes were not what Cass remembered them to be: they had an almost blank quality to them, as if he were looking past her.

Then his eyes focused and he seemed to recognize her, eyes widening the slightest amount as he took in where he was. His mouth moved, but she could not hear him.

Having observed the effect her blood had on the barrier, Cass quickly drew her sword, placing the blade in her palm and making a shallow cut across her hand. Blood seeped out, and immediately Cass began to smear it on the barrier. She didn't notice a jones shaking his head at her, saying something akin to 'don't do this'. She continued on until the wound stopped weeping blood. By then, a hole about the size of her hand had appeared. Obviously Jones could not fit out of that. She had to widen the hole.

Again she took the blade to her hand, making another cut and repeating the process. She could now hear Jones speaking, but was too focused in her task to process any of the words she heard.

Finally, after running out of places to draw blood from on her hands, she moved to her arms. Only then did she have enough blood to have made a hole that Jones could fit through. She had been so focused on her task that she had not noticed her vision fading. Then all of a sudden everything went black, and that was that.

/

Davy Jones was displeased. One reason for this was that he was in the Locker. This was obviously not a good thing, as it meant he was dead. Or had been dead. It depended on the way one thought about it, really, and he want thinking about it. He could think about it later, when Cass was not passed out and bleeding from a wound a bit too close to her wrist. Which, he might add, was because using her blood was apparently the only way to break the barrier Calypso had constructed around him.

He cursed the goddess for this. She knew Cass would figure out how to destroy the barrier one way or another. She also knew Cass would do whatever it took to get Jones out, even at the expense of her life.

Yet she was only unconscious, not dead. She had not lost enough blood for that.

Jones reasoned that to get here, she had to have come by ship. She couldn't have been killed twice, or Calypso would be here as well. This meant there had to be a ship nearby, possibly with a doctor, or at least cloth and rum to clean and bandage her wounds.

Once she was conscious again, Jones fully intended to yell at her for so foolishly sacrificing herself for him. That, and some other things as well.

For the mean time, he picked up the woman and began walking away from his prison. Cass continued to breathe, no something about the peaceful look on her face reminded him of that night what felt like decades ago, when Calypso's curse had so brutally mutilated her until she begged for death.

Within a few minutes, Jones did spot a ship anchored in the water. It had not escaped his notice that he was human once more. This would be helpful as he tried to convince the crew to fix Cass. Her breath remained even, and as he glanced down at her face, he saw it was much more worn that it had been when he had last seen her. There were dark circles that marked her sleepless nights under her eyes, and her flesh looked dirtier and somehow creased. She really had failed to care for herself properly. At least now she was getting the rest she needed.

Jones phased onto the ship with Cass in his arms, glaring back at anyone who dared look in his direction with too much shock. There was no movement, which only served to anger Jones further. "Can ye not see she requires assistance," he said in a booming voice. With the loss of his octopus features, the strange underwater quality disappeared from his voice.

At his shout, the crew began moving, two men striding over and attempting to take Cass from him. Jones would not stand for that, not after what she had done. He glared at them until they realized this, and instead gestured for him to follow them. They had clearly been given orders to expect such a thing to happen involving the female crew member. How she had convinced the captain of this vessel to navigate to this place, he did not particularly want to know.

The two crewmen led him to the captain's quarters, something Jones took note of to ask Cass about later. He lay her on the small mattress, despite his reservations. On a small table nearby were two bottles of rum and a large sheet of cloth. Cass had at least been prepared to sustain injury. Perhaps she expected to fight Calypso herself and sustain heavy enough damage that she would need all the supplies on the table.

The two men began tearing the cloth into strips and cleaning her wounds. Jones watched over the operation, becoming more and more angry every time they touched her.

All four of them remained like this for some time, Cass' breath faltering only when the stinging alcohol came into contact with one of her open wounds.

As Jones looked over her, he noticed something metallic at her neck. It was barely visible under her clothing, but upon inspection, it was a silver chain. And attached to the chain was...

The locket. She had kept it after all.

He quickly jumped out of his thought process as she gasped for air, chest heaving.

And then her eyes opened, and all was right in the world for a short period of time.


	35. Chapter 35

Cass awoke to the silence of breaths held with strange faces hovering above her. She took a minute to recall what had happened to put her in such a state before it all came back. With the memories came the hatred for the goddess that had put her in such a position to begin with.

Glancing around, she saw she was back in her cabin. She also saw that she was not alone. 

“What in hell’s name happened?” The question was not spoken by her lips, but it echoed her thoughts. Somehow she was back aboard the ship, when she needed to be in the Locker saving Jones from whatever prison Calypso had put him in. 

“Yes, do tell us. Yeh bro’ ‘er aboard.”

“Unless she says its yer business, it ain’t yer business,” a familiar voice growled.

Cass shot up, looking to the source of the voice. Leaning against the far wall was a man with a face she had only just become acquainted with, as it had changed significantly since before she had entered the Locker.

“Davy Jones,” she rasped, her voice not quite working

“Aye.” He made no move to go to her, and she did not try to leave her cot.

There was silence in the cabin, until the other men in the room (who were being pointedly ignored by Cass) decided it was in their best interest to leave.

Once they were alone, Jones spoke again. “Yeh should’t ‘ve done that. Yeh could’ve died. Again.”

Cass huffed indignantly. “If we don’ get this ship movin’ again, I’ll be dead anyway.”

She made to rise and make for the door, but her legs were unsteady and she toppled down back to where she had started. “Would you…?” She asked hesitantly, leaving him to interpret what she needed done. Jones nodded once and strode out the door. Cass heard him bellow orders to make way, and heard the scuffle of feat and the shout of orders abovedeaks.

When he returned, he stood in the same place he had just vacated. “Tell me, lass. What happened after I fell?” She did not know how to begin to answer, and so she was silent for a minute.

“Don’ tell me yeh did somethin’ foolish, lass.” 

“I jumped after you. Calypso didn’ like that, ‘n spit me right back out. Was relieved of duty ‘board the Dutchman, got a ship ‘n sailed my way here.”

“Don’ tell me tha’ Turner whelp has my Dutchman,” he said in a tone that said he knew otherwise. When she looked away, he continued, becoming more exasperated. ‘And he revealed yeh of duty? An’ none o’ the crew spoke against? I thought they were overly fond o’ yeh.”

“I asked. He didn’ think I would make it this far. Yet here I am.”

“Aye.”

They sat in silence for a time, Jones unsure of how to proceed and Cass sobered by the near completion of her goal.

“Yeh should rest,” Jones said, and he strode toward the door once more. “Thought yeh were lost. Not good for the health.”  
Cass smiled grimly, feeling the weariness in her bones and the ache in her muscles. While she had not exerted herself physically (save for the freeing Jones thing) she still felt as if she had been thrown from the crow’s nest several times. 

Perhaps it was because she was still woozy that her reunion with Jones had not been as incredible as she had pictured. Or maybe it was because he felt the same sense of impending doom that had been at the back of her mind since arriving at this place.

As the ship set sail once more, she allowed the familiar noises to lull her back to unconsciousness.

/

As it turned out, Jones did feel the same sense of doom Cass did. However, while she might not have the clearest idea of why, he knew for certain. Sure, she would guess correctly when asked - she had lived these past years herself and knew the goddess would not allow her to win so easily.

Jones just hoped that they could cover enough sea to have a fair shot at getting Cass safely ashore. There, at least, the goddess could not hurt her. 

As for himself, he did not know weather the curse still held. With his heart returned to the cavity in his chest, he suspected that he would be fine if he did go ashore. But he knew Calypso, and knew she would not let him out of her grasp so easily.

As he stepped out of her cabin (and now that he knew she captained this vessel, he was less adverse to her being there) he looked around at the familiar waves. He had missed them for the brief time he had spent in his Locker. 

Seeing the sea had him remembering scenes from before his rather inconvenient death. The image of Cass fighting off foe after foe in a whirlwind of death came to mind, and he smiled grimly at the memory. He was thrilled she had sought a way to come back to his side, he truly was. But so early on, he did not want to bring his hopes back up that she would stay. 

Calypso would no doubt try and remove her once again, and, knowing Cass, a life of running was not something she would appreciate. Not that he could blame her. He knew the lass, and knew she would stand and fight rather than run any day. She clearly preferred the challenges that had solutions like ‘cut them all to pieces so they cant be a bother any longer’ or ‘throw them overboard so they stay out of the way’. And yet this was not such a challenge.

Calypso would chase her across the seas until one of them won. And while Cass was a force to be reckoned with, Calypso was a heathen goddess. She had power over sea and sky, and could walk among mortals. The brethren court would need to convene once again to bind the goddess once more, and he doubted even Cass could threaten that lot into doing such a thing.

His Cass had saved him, and now it was his turn to save her. This time, for good.


	36. Chapter 36

Calypso watched as the ship sailed away from the Locker. Everything was going according to plan – she hardly had to lift a finger to bring her captain back from his Locker. She had even managed to weaken the girl to the point where Jones would have to leave her alone to heal. While the whelp’s determination was to be admired, her wish to be back on her feat would not replenish her health. She would be bedridden for a few days at least, which was plenty of time for her.

She would allow them to leave the dreaded place, and during that time of peace, the girl’s hope would build. 

...only to be crushed by the might of the goddess of the sea. The girl would learn not to meddle in things that she had no business in, just before she perished.

Calypso watched the ship fade into the distance and smiled.

/

Cass awoke with a jolt. She looked about the cabin to see what had caused her to wake, only to find the room empty. 

She knew she was still too weak to leave the cabin unassisted, and she knew that she could admit no weakness to the men aboard the vessel. To do so would be to shake their already wavering loyalty to a female captain, no matter the reputation that preceded her.

Despite the knowledge that she would not be able to leave, she tried her legs nonetheless. She wanted to see Jones again.

She was able to sit up, allowing the muscles in her back to stretch and burn from their sudden use. It occurred to her then that she did not know how long she had been unconscious. Had they escaped the Locker? Or were they still in the dreaded place?

While she knew she had to rescue Jones from the Locker, she had not been certain that she would succeed. It was for this reason that she did not formulate a plan in advance, and now was uncertain of how to proceed. Should she make for land, and give the two of them a chance of escaping Calypso? She certainly didn’t want that. The sea was her home, and she would not be displaced so easily. 

Running was the smartest option, but sometimes Cass was not willing to be smart. She had other things to consider. She had died once already. If it meant fighting Calypso to the best of her ability, she was square with dying a second time.

But there was also Jones to consider. He had been strangely distant since she was brought back aboard her vessel, which unnerved and saddened Cass. Did he no longer want her? Had she failed him in some way?

Shuddering, she attempted to stand. She managed a few seconds before her trembling knees buckled and she fell to the floor gasping in pain and surprise.

She hated that she had become so weak. She hadn’t been this helpless since before she boarded the Pearl for the first time. Was this why Jones was distancing himself from her? Had she become too weak for him?

Grunting, Cass pulled herself to her feet again, leaning heavily against the wall and waiting for her heart to stop hammering. It took a few moments but her breathing evened out once more. Her feet were numb and her legs unsteady, but she stayed upright for a few minutes.

Never mind failing Jones, she was failing herself if she couldn’t manage to walk.

And so she did. 

Slowly at first, she walked about her quarters. Her legs burned but she carried on until she could walk with no support. Her body remembered its old strength and all was suddenly a bit more alright.

Her hand dropped to her hip where the hilt of her sword usually was, only to grasp at empty space. Her eyes searched the room from the thing that had kept her alive for so long. Perhaps Jones had moved it so she wouldn’t stab anyone who dared interrupted her slumber. However, that had only happened once, and the man had been fine. Mostly.

Maybe ‘mostly’ was an overstatement. That still did not give anyone, even Jones, the right to take what was hers. Especially something that important to her survival.

She would prefer the coming years, as it turned out. What that would mean, she did not know. She did know she was going to go find Jones and ask him to clarify what had happened in her absence.

Donning the coat she had left behind when entering the Locker, she walked into the blazing light of midday. She attempted to put as much of her old swagger into her step as she marched about, looking for the tall bearded man.

She drew the eyes of the crew toiling about the deck, but none dared approach her. As she passed the central mast, she debated taking her old place in the crow’s nest. She did miss those days aboard the Pearl, even if they were not so far in the past. Her path had been much more straightforward back then, and she had had people about her that she could consider friends. 

But now Elizabeth wanted nothing to do with her insanity or her, and Jack was off who knew where, doing who knew what. The crew of the Dutchman were out of reach and wouldn’t accept her in her weakened state. The very man she had lost so much for was avoiding her, and this crew she sailed with had no true loyalty to her.

Cass was alone, and did not enjoy it nearly as much as she thought she would.

She turned her eyes to the helm, checking to see if Jones was there. He was not. He wasn’t anywhere she could see, actually. However, she did not know his new face as she knew his old one, so it was possible she had passed over him without realizing it.

Her hands grasped for the chain around her neck, seeking comfort in the feel of the large locket she kept tucked against her chest. Lifting the chain from her neck, she was surprised at how light it was. It was to her dismay that she found the locket was not attached to the chain any longer, and was not anywhere on her person at all.

She had to find Jones. She had not come this far for him just for him to toss her away so easily.

Cass roughly grabbed the nearest crew member, demanding to know if he had seen Jones. He jabbered in a language she could not understand, gesturing wildly with his hands as she held him at eye level by the lapels of his shirt.

Angrily, she released him, but not before grabbing the sword at his hip and tucking it into her belt. He could find another one. She stormed away, her anger building as she sought out someone she could understand.

She began searching the helm for the man she had spoken to when she had first emerged from the cabin after leaving Singapore. She assumed that, because he had been the first to speak to her, he must be of relatively high rank among the men. Cass did not remember his name, or even if it had been told to her at all.

The faces she saw instead were only vaguely familiar, as though she had seen them before but never had any reason to go beyond just seeing them. She was glad in that moment that her reputation preceded her and these strange men stayed far away from her.

She tried to not let the fear and uncertainty show in her face as s  
he became more desperate. Scrambling for the anger that kept her centered so often, she struggled to keep her face stoic and unimpressed. Maybe it was in her best interest to return to her cabin until she was sure she could maintain her facade.

In the end she decided against it, and continued her search.

The top deck was devoid of any familiar faces, and so she made her way belowdecks, questioning men at random and hoping to be understood. She had no such luck, however, and continued her search as blindly as when she had started.

It was at this point that she began wondering if Jones had simply left. Recalling their last conversation, she wondered if he had heard the news of the Dutchman’s fate and left to go reclaim it. Had that really been all she was? A means to an end?

Her anger was collapsing in on itself, giving way to grief and doubt. She most likely had been left here, in the middle of the sea, a sitting duck for Calypso to swoop down on and wipe from the face of the earth. Fear gripped her heart and her breaths faltered. But no, she could not be this weak. Even if Jones no longer cared for her company, she was determined to repay the goddess for the pain she had caused. Her goal was the same, even if the cause had changed.

It was then that she finally found the man who’s name she did not know. 

“Where is Jones?”

“Good to see you on your feet again, my lady.” They spoke at the same time, and Cass almost laughed with relief at the sight of him and the recognition of her language.

“I have not been a lady all my life, mate,” she said. “No need to call me anything but Captain.”

He seemed amused by her comment. “I must admit I did not expect to see you walking so soon after your injury. The man who brought you aboard has said nothing of how you came to receive such wounds.”

At the mention of Jones, her attention returned to the task at hand. She had allowed her mind to wander as he spoke, something she often did when people spoke of unnecessary things.

“Have you seen him? A few of my things have gone missing, and I have matters to discuss with him.”

“Not in a few hours. Though he has hardly left your side throughout your recovery. You did not recognize him the last time you woke, so it will be a relief to him that you know him once more.”

This surprised her. “I woke before this?”

“Only in fever dreams,” he replied. “You screamed for Davy Jones, among a host of others. No matter what he said, he could not calm you. The only thing that brought you rest was the music from that strange locket you wear.”

He had not left her after all. Was her mind playing tricks on her again? She was not used to this uncertainty. It was not what she allowed herself to be. Perhaps there were cracks in her walls against emotion. She would need to fix that.

“Where was he last?”

“The brig, I believe. Speaking to the other woman aboard. I had assumed there was only one of you, though I must have assumed incorrectly. Is she a friend of yours?”

Only two words registered within her mind. She knew where Jones was likely to be, and she knew without a doubt that she was right to take the sword when she had a chance.

‘Other woman’ could only be one woman. 

“Tell me,” she asked slowly, mentally checking over her body to see what she would be capable when worst came to worst. “Did we escape the Locker?”

“Yes we did. Six days ago.”

Six days. Which meant she had been out at least that long. “You need to have the crew abandon ship. Be silent about it, and be quick. I do not know how much time I can buy you. Do not ask,” she said as he opened his mouth to undoubtedly ask what was going on. “Just do. Do not wait for me.”

And with that, she was running, searching for the brig. Hopefully the man would do as she said. While she was not adverse to bloodshed, she knew these men would only get in the way as she fought Calypso.

The time had come.

/

The pieces were in place, and just in time as well. Calypso knew the moment the whelp woke and knew her surroundings. She betrayed none of her knowledge on her face as she spoke to her captain. He was furious with her for the pain she had cased the lass, but knew she was capable of so much worse. He begged for her life without going so far as to beg. 

She could scene his uncertainty at the lass seeing his true face and the slight fear that she would no longer want him as he wanted her. She would use it against the lass and bring him back to her side. Her plan was too perfect.

The sea goddess knew the lass was drawing near. The whelp was practically radiating fear. She probably knew who awaited her. It was satisfying, knowing the girl who feared nothing apparently feared something after all. Or someone, in this case.

Calypso herd the quick footsteps as they came closer, though Jones did not seem to notice. She withdrew the locket that she had stole from beside the whelp’s head as she slept. She allowed it to open in her hand, the music playing faintly.

As the door to the brig opened and Cass walked in, Calypso planted her lips firmly on those of her old human lover and warped herself around him. His surprise kept him still, and his eyes away from the woman standing in front of him.

Calypso knew what it looked like. She had been counting on it. It was only after she heard the footsteps retreating that she released her captain, a smirk twisting her face. The whelp would not hear Jones’ outraged yells as he shoved her away. She would be too far away, too caught up in her own thoughts. 

And Jones had not seen her, so he would not know to follow her.

It had almost been too easy.


	37. Chapter 37

Cass felt nothing. As she fled, she had no time to reflect on this, but the fact remained. Her chest felt empty, but that was all she felt. She did not feel the pain that must have been shooting through her body from the sudden exertion. She didn’t feel the sudden rush of sea air as she returned abovedecks. 

The crew had done as she said, and had left the ship in the direction that land must be. There was one last lifeboat on board, and it was nearly full.

Cass suddenly felt as if something was burning her about the neck, and reached to touch the chain she always wore. She tore it from herself, not bothering with the pain. The chain was dropped to the deck where it was promptly forgotten. 

Silently she clambered into the lifeboat, not looking at any of the others she accompanied.

She did not speak as the boat was lowered to the sea. 

She did not speak as the boat was rowed to shore.

Calypso had won. Perhaps it was time she found her way ashore.

/

Davy Jones did not know what to make of the empty ship. He had had a good long shout at Calypso for trying to kiss him again. She knew he no longer wanted her, and she had done too much to the woman he did want for him to ever even consider coming back to her. 

He had decided it was time to check on Cass again, and had ventured abovedecks, the rage still flowing through his veins. Perhaps she had woken again, and knew where she was. Perhaps she would recognize him this time.

He looked nothing like he did when they first met, and she had not been conscious much of the time he had been around, so he had no means to know what she thought. Now that he no longer looked like a monster of the seas, he hoped to truly win her affections. But they had been monsters together, so maybe it did not make much difference.

It was the silence that alerted him first. Gone were the sounds of the crew laboring to keep the ship on course. All that remained was the sound of the masts creaking in the wind and the sea below. 

Then he noticed that the lack of sound was because there were no men aboard. His stride lengthened as he rushed to the captain’s cabin, only to find it empty.

Cass was gone. 

And Davy Jones was alone on a ship in the middle of the ocean, at the mercy of a goddess he had once loved.

/

When they finally reached land, Cass was still silent. She did not know where she was. It was land, and that was good enough for her. She did not think beyond formulating a plan. Instinctively her hands reached for the locket about her neck, only to come away empty. But Cass would not think about that. 

She would not think of anything. 

She instead would find a nice brothel a good distance ashore and consume as much rum as she could. That would do the trick.

The crew of the ship she had captained for a time grouped together, leaving her behind as they marched inland. Cass stayed a moment, looking out over the sea. Somewhere far away her ship floated. With no other lifeboats there was no way for them to be followed. 

She would be safe.

With a final look at the sea, she turned and left her home behind. Perhaps Elizabeth was right to be against her mission. It was certainly too late now, though. 

/

“Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute!” The fighting around the man who spoke stopped suddenly at his command. “I just… I need to understand something.” A few of the men turn to face him, weapons lowered slightly. “Right. So. You,” he pointed at the man with the wig. “Will fight against them, they will fight against you,” he pointed this time to the other man. “All on account of him wanting to kill him? Where is the sense?”

One man seemed to agree with him and nods slightly.

“Exactly. I say, let them fight each other! While we lay back, watch, and have a drink.” The man was always for a drink.” There was nothing rum could not fix. The quantity was the important part. 

The same man who had nodded originally lowered his weapon all the way, agreeing with the other man’s logic. However, the man who wanted to kill the other man, who in turn wanted to kill the man who wanted to kill him did not agree, and yelled for the battle to begin again. 

Jack Sparrow narrowly avoided being shot and stabbed as he tried to run from the fight. It worked for the most part. The fighting around him reminded him of another battle not so long ago, and of a friend that was out there somewhere, doing something she shouldn’t be.

He grinned at the thought, and joined the fight. Cassandra would have enjoyed all the unnecessary bloodshed. He almost missed her insanity.

/

Davy Jones walked about the deck, searching for any sort of message Cass might have left him. Had she been taken against her will? Likely not. She would have caused a fuss that he would not be able to help but hear. But that would mean she had left of her own volition. She wouldn’t do that, though. She was loyal to a fault, that one.

“Looking for the whelp? She ain’t here no more.” The voice of Calypso sounded behind him, and he fought the urge to turn and face her.

“What have you done,” he asked, his voice low with anger barely contained. “Where is she?”

“Far out of either of our grasps. By choice,” she added in a singsong tone. “She woke today and knew the world she saw. She came a-lookin’ for you, and didn’ like what she saw.” And it suddenly made sense why the goddess had showed up when she did.

Calypso was clever, he would give her that. “She saw what yeh did. She saw and she left. Do you not know the state of her mind? The way the madness drives her? She expects to be left behind. She gave what little love she had to me, and you took even that away! She could die, die from all the hell she’s seen and suffered!” He had finally faced her, looming tall above her and commanding her full attention as he shouted at her.

“And all the better too. She learnt not to touch whas mine.” A slender hand cupped his face, then fell away as she disappeared. 

Davy Jones howled in rage before striding towards the helm. Cass could only have gotten so far.

/

Cass did not speak save to procure a bottle of rum and transport as far as what little coin she had could take her. They had been spit out of the locker somewhere near Tortuga, and it was a short trip away, or so she had been told. She did not have any particular interest in returning to the place of her childhood, but she needed to stay on land as much as possible. In Tortuga she could procure enough coin to keep surviving and keep the rum flowing.

She would be a fool to think that anyone she had known before would recognize her now. She was covered in scars and disfigurements, and though she had not seen her face in some time, she expected she looked much more worn than she had before her adventure.

A lot had happened since she had last been there.

But Tortuga did have a very good quality: she could disappear. No one would recognize her, and no one would know who she was. So if Jones did come looking, he would not be able to locate her. There were too many pubs in Tortuga for him to search them all, and she blended in perfectly with the crowds.

Calypso would inevitably get bored waiting for her and would loose interest. Perhaps then she could go see the colonies, or find some other adventure to keep her occupied.

For the time being, Cass would stay hunched over in her chair with her rum, remembering nothing and saying even less.


	38. Chapter 38

Months passed, and the initial heartbreak and loss of purpose passed with them. The first few days had been challenging, but she had made it through them. 

She had never before been grateful that she had only been moderately attractive before the her adventures on the sea. However, now that she was alone in Tortuga and spending her nights in brothels, she found it to be helpful. 

Cass barely remembered what she had looked like before. Sometimes, when she tried to remember, she could picture flashes of sun-darkened skin and dark hair. She imagined she looked something like what the rest of the women she saw looked like: hair piled in a mass that mocked the intricacy of the hair style of noblewomen and figures that spoke of little physical labor. 

Now she was riddled with scars, and had grown thinner and more muscular as a result of her time aboard the Dutchman. Her hair had grown longer while she was on land, and, as she had not had an immediate need to cut it back, she had not done so. 

She kept to the backs of the pubs she visited, watching the crowds and nursing a bottle of rum. For the first few days she had kept herself drunk enough that she couldn’t think (or remember) if she tried. Everything was a blur, and that was the way she needed it to be.

As the weeks passed, she slowly reduced her intake until she was sober most of the day. 

Life had been challenging for Cass. For so long her sole purpose had been to get to Jones, to free Jones. Now that Jones no longer needed freeing, and she had no wish to be around him any longer, she had to figure out what it was that she wanted to do. 

Her experiences on the Pearl and the Dutchman had turned her into a creature of a single mind, bred to fight and win and never surrender. She no longer had that, and she was so terribly lost.

She had realized one day that she hardly knew who she was. The madness had been all-encompassing, leaving no room for anything else.

Cass had spent her third month re-learning what it meant to be Cass. It had worked, to an extent. She visited old friends whose names she had nearly forgotten. She listened as sailors told stories about the fall of the East India T raiding Company. She learned that her favorite color was blue, and that sitting on a cliff edge a good distance from the town offered a nice view of the sea and was occasionally better than rum.

She loved the sea, though never went near it out of worry she would be found. 

Eventually Cass decided she ought to learn to read, and attempted to find someone who could teach her. 

It had not gone well, and she eventually decided it was not worth the trouble. She had become a terrible introvert.

One night she had seen a man who looked entirely too familiar, and had fled the brothel. It was not that she was afraid of Jones; the fearlessness, in fact, had stuck with her. It was simply that she did not want to be pulled back to a dependence on him for purpose in life.  
When she had reached the dock, however, she did not see the ship she had left him on. It must not have been him, she decided. Why would he come ashore now that he had his goddess back? She truly needed to remember reason once again.

She walked among the ships a while longer, remembering what it had been like all those years ago, walking along the same dock and looking at ships that were not so different from these. It was sad, in a way, how that memory hurt so much less than others that she kept burred in her mind.

Cass turned around and strode back to the brothel and bottle she had left, not noticing the ship pulling into the dock not far from where she had just been.

/

Barbossa stepped onto the dock at long last. He had hoped that while he had been playing Privateer, his crew would have at least gained some intellect.

It had not happened. 

It was good to be back, though. He enjoyed not having to answer to anyone any longer. The amount of ass-kissing he had to do in order to even get a ship had been painful, and had worn down his pride.

As the crew squabbled among themselves over who would stay and watch the ship, he walked to his preferred brothel and procured a bottle of rum. The sounds of drunken fighting and laughing were welcome to his ears. As a privateer, he had been able to dock at most ports. Tortuga was not included for obvious reasons. 

When he had first set out for Tortuga after the ordeal with the Fountain, he had no idea what he planned to do. Not that the crew needed to know that. He would not have another Bootstrap Bill incident. 

However, being the captain of the Revenge did have benefits. He could hang any of them with a swing of his sword. The ship obeyed his command. He wondered to what extent he could sail without a crew. While that would remove the problem of having those of low intelligence surrounding him, he would not have a fighting force when he needed it. Given that Sparrow was still alive, and they were on uncertain terms, he had no doubt he would need one.

Especially if his suspicions as to what Cassandra was doing were true.

While he did not care for the wench at all, he had to admire her loyalty and her surprising ability to continue living. She was nearly as bad as Sparrow.

Barbossa found a nice spot in the back of the brothel and sat back to watch the madness.

He watched as a man stumbled drunkenly into another, who promptly bashed him over the head with the butt of his pistol. This caused the first man to stumble into a wench attempting to seduce yet another drunk man so she fell on top of her target in a way that was clearly not intentional. Barbossa snorted as the fight unfolded into a brawl as more and more people were drawn in.

It was all enjoyable to watch until someone who could hold their own got angry. Which apparently happened, because the next minute bullets were flying and someone was flying about the room fighting seemingly everyone at once. 

Whoever they were, they made short work of anyone that dared face them. 

But as soon as the fight had started, it stopped, and everyone who was not laying wounded on the ground got back to their drinks. Barbossa decided that he ought to speak to whoever had been fighting so impressively and persuade them to join his crew.

He found them sitting in the back amongst the shadows with a bottle, much the same as he had been not moments before. 

“Ye fight as if ye were taught by Davy Jones himself,” he said.

The man (and he assumed it was a man, because no woman could fight like that) did not even look at him.

“Oi, ye!” he yelled, trying and failing to get the man’s attention. “Are ye deaf?”

“Of course I can,” he said quietly. And suddenly there was a sword at his throat. “Ye were yellin’” 

Barbossa felt he ought to know that voice, cold and raspy as it was. He couldn’t place where he knew it from, and the man still would not face him. “Who are ye,” he asked.

“I had hoped ye would not see me here, Captain Barbossa,” he said, drawing out his name in a way that was not pleasant at all. “But hopes are not something to put money on, are they?”

“And yet again, I ask who are ye?” He was becoming a bit irritated. “Ye obviously know who I be, so kindly return the favor.”

The man chuckled. “I’m not the one with a blade to my throat, am I?” But the sword was removed a second later. “Sit. Sit if you must.”

Barbossa had no idea what this strange man was playing at, but sat across from him anyway.

It was then that the man looked at him in the face for the first time, and he knew where he knew the voice from.

“Ye said I fight like Jones taught me. Tha’s close enough, I suppose,” said Cassandra.

“Ye,” said Barbossa. “Yer supposed to be off doing what ye shouldn’t.”

“I’m also supposed to be dead, and in some cases, part of the sea itself. Depends on who ye listen to. But good to see you still have your vision, even if you don’t have your leg.”

“Time has not improved ye any, Cassandra.”

“Did you expect it to?” She was most certainly laughing at him, behind that calm facade. Cassandra was never calm.

“Nay.” He looked closer at her face, and saw that it had become more sunken and her eyes underlined with dark circles. Time had not treated her well at all. “Did Jones toss ye the moment yeh brough’ ‘im back?”

She sighed and took a long drink from her bottle. “Maybe.”

Barbossa tried not to laugh. She was clearly still dangerous, and would likely try to kill him if he did. “And ye just let ‘im? Doesn’t sound like ye, Cass.”

“Didn’ have much of a choice, did I?” She took another drink. “Besides, time has passed. No idea how much. Doesn’ matter now, does it?”

Maybe he could recruit her after all. “Ye miss the sea, don’t ye?”

Her long sigh was all the answer he needed. “Join me crew, sail the seas once again. Under my command, of course.” 

“Calypso is still out there. She’ll sink your ship.” It did not go unnoticed that her answer had not been no. She must be desperate.

“The Revenge is not a normal ship, lass. And Calypso can be bound. Again.”

He could hear her scowl and condemnation in her next words. “Which would not have to be done if she had not been released in the first place.” Was she still mad enough not to see the necessity of Calypso’s release? Perhaps she had not assisted them directly, but the maelstrom had allowed them to take the Dutchman. And they most certainly would not have won if they did not have the Dutchman.

“What’s done is done,” he replied. “And the Brethren Court will not convene unless she becomes too much of a nuisance. Which I am sure you can make her become.”

“My very existence does that, it seems. Very well, I will join your crew.”

Barbossa smiled wickedly. “Welcome back, Cassandra.”

Cass just downed the rest of her rum. “I am going to need a lot more of that,” she said tiredly. “And a hat. I want a hat.”

/

Davy Jones had tried to sail the ship he had been left on, but try as he might, the sea would not bend to his will. That was most likely because the goddess of the sea would not allow him to leave. He found this irritating to no end, and had no problem letting said sea goddess know. 

Some days she would appear to him and attempt to gain his favor. It never worked, and only ever ended in him bellowing his anger to the wind.

She had threated to return him to his previous fishy self, had threatened to sink his ship and claim him once again. She had done neither, and he wondered often why she held back. Perhaps she wanted him to choose her once again.

But he would not, not after what had been done to Cass. His Cass. But she wasn’t his Cass any longer, was she? Calypso had seen to that.

He found himself cursing her name aloud again, the ever present howling winds muffling his yells.

Jones eventually lost track of how long he had been afloat on this miserable ship. He lost track of how many times he had tossed his locket over the railing only for it to appear in front of him moments later. He had since stopped trying to rid himself of the infernal thing.

Oftentimes he found himself wondering what Cass would be doing at this moment in time. He assumed that Calypso would brag if she had managed to kill the lass, and since she had not done so, he thought she must be on land. Safe.

But also out of reach. And this time, she was not coming to save him. He would have to find her this time, and try as he might, he could not make the insipid ship move.

Then, one day, Calypso appeared again, a grin upon her face that he did not like at all.

“What is it this time,” he growled, hoping against all hope she would just leave him once again. 

“The wench of yours is back in my grasp. Wouldn’t you like to hear?”

Of course the only thing that would cause her to smile in such a way would be this. “Did ye kill her?”

“Not yet.” Wasn’t that a surprise. 

“Whyever not,” he asked, his tone rich with false interest. 

“You,” she said, pointing at him. “Are boring. All you do is mope about. Little Cassandra, on the other hand...” She circled him, trailing a delicate hand over his shoulder and up to cup his face. “She knows I am coming. She knows and will try to protect herself. But she cannot, and neither can the pirates she travels with.”

What did she think she was doing, returning to the sea? Did she not know the danger she faced?

Or had she simply gotten tired of land, and hoped Calypso had tired of her?

What would she do, now that the goddess chased her once more?

“Don’t you want to know his name?”

“Who’s name?” He wondered if she had moved on that fast. Or was Calypso just taunting him again?

“The one she travels with now. She did stay on land a while. It must have taken some convincing,” and the way she said ‘convincing’ was so lascivious he had to fight not to go for her throat. “..To get her to return to the sea. But everyone and everything returns to me eventually, don’t they? You would know better than most.”

His jaw clenched. He tried to remind himself that Cass wouldn’t do anything like that, but he could not. Images of scantily clad Cassandras and pirates without faces paraded about his mind, and he knew Calypso must know this.

She grinned all the more brightly at his expression. “She left you behind long ago.”

And Jones was now confronted with a choice. He could believe Calypso, or he could remember Cassandra the way she deserved. And he could try and bring her back.

A plan formed in his mind, and he grinned back at the sea goddess. “She has a habit of coming back.”


End file.
